Safe House
by Snoot37
Summary: Following the events of Civil War, Cap and his fugitive comrades need somewhere to run. A mysterious note left in his suit pocket convinces Cap to follow the coordinates to the destination, hoping for help and a place to call home, since they can no longer return to the Avengers compound. Set between Civil War and Infinity War. Spoilers for both.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **For those of us who are "Staron" fans, the treatment of the character of Sharon Carter in the movieverse has been frustrating to say the least. I am unsure how truthful are some of the things I've read, and likely the whole story will never be known by the fans, but I read stories of how Sharon was supposed to be the female lead in CA:WS, and that scheduling conflicts with Emily VanCamp and ScarJo's agent pushing for a bigger role for her ended up booting Sharon from much of the action, but that if you rewatch the movie and imagine Sharon by Steve's side instead of Black Widow from the point where he finds the flash drive is missing from the vending machine until they reconnect with Nick Fury and Maria Hill before the Trisk falls, that the relationship between Steve and Sharon makes a lot more sense later on and was original to the plot. Then, I hear of how a large number of scenes involving Sharon in Civil War were cut, leaving us with a mere 15 minutes of actual screentime total in the cinematic universe across 2 movies for a character who, in the comic books, is easily a superhero in her own right, a spy and warrior on par with Black Widow and not just "the girlfriend." Then Infinity War comes out, and Sharon gets not even a mention, not even a brief 30 second scene with Steve on the phone with her saying he'd be home soon to let us know she didn't just disappear after that famous kiss and her walking away, when she should have been on the Cap team at the airport. (Even the LEGO set for the airport battle features her as apparently was the original plan) It's unfair and frustrating for Sharon fans, especially those of us who have loved her character in the comics for years. The explanation the Russos give us is that there wasn't enough time to show Steve and Sharon "in an apartment somewhere trying to make it work," which I call BS if we can see Wanda and Vision getting it on in a hotel room, and Tony and Pepper going for a jog in the park, though that line from the interview of the directors gave me pause. Sharon and Steve are living together somewhere following the events of Civil War?! Fanfiction time! Hence, this fic was born. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Safe House**

Steve "Captain America" Rogers bowed his head against the sudden gust of cold wet wind, and pulled his ill-fitted, hastily acquired jacket closer around his chest. He was walking down a street in Amsterdam close to 10 PM at night, hoping he would not be recognized or spotted by anyone who might alert the authorities. He had several more blocks to go, and was hoping that he would get to his destination before curious eyes fell on his face, but also before he caught hypothermia. He might have joked that he could freeze to death, but his 70 year nap in a block of ice proved that that was likely not what was going to eventually killed him. To that end, and not for the first time, he wondered what *would* finally get him. Bullets, being dropped several floors out of the building, hit with an alien laser and dropped from the sky out of helicarrier hadn't done the trick. He had a grim suspicion that his end would either be violent or some 300 years from now after he had once again watched everyone he loved age and die or fall in an attack. It's seem to be his lot in life.

He glanced at the slender form of a young woman who walked in step with him but slightly behind, her own head bent against the wind and he could tell she was shivering. He felt his chest constrict slightly and a sense of urgency making him pick up the pace slightly more than he intended, for he did not want to rush her. Wanda Maximoff had already been through quite enough in the last couple of days, hell the last couple of years, thank you very much. The loss of her twin brother and her country of Sokovia in Ultron's attack, followed by rebuilding her life in New York at the compound with Vision, only to lose it all to the ideological battle between him and Tony, which culminated in her and those who had stood beside Steve being imprisoned on the Raft would be enough to cause anyone to have a nervous breakdown. This wasn't even counting the incident with Crossbones that had ended with her accidentally causing the death of civilians as she tried to toss Rumlow into the stratosphere before he exploded, for which she had felt enormous guilt, and when Steve had found her in the others on the Raft, she had been fitted with a device around her neck that had subdued her powers, leaving her helpless in her prison cell, which also had to be emotionally wrenching. She had been quite pleased to see him, and had easily run with the rest of them as they made their way out of the Raft and out of sight, but since they had reached the mainland and found some measure of safety in hiding locations, a dark cloud of silence had fallen over the somber young woman, and both Steve and Sam were concerned that the events might have been a little too much for Wanda.

She had insisted that she was fine and perfectly capable of keeping up with them, but Steve knew the sooner he got her and everyone else to a safe permanent location, the better off they would all be. At least, that's where he hoped they were heading. His eyes fell to the dark figure of Clint Barton walking a block or so ahead of them seemingly unconnected with them. Without being too obvious, he glanced over his shoulder at the figures of Scott Lang and Sam Wilson walking together but behind them and across the street, coats and scarves pulled around their faces. They were all fugitives from the governments of the world and the American CIA and law enforcement. They had willingly gone against the Sokovia Accords signed by the UN, had caused in numerable losses in property damage to the Berlin airport, and had broken out of a high-security containment facility. And they had done it all to stop the release of 12 more Winter Soldiers, and apprehend Helmut Zemo, the vengeful Sokovian soldier who had orchestrated framing Bucky Barnes for the bombing at the UN and the rift between the Avengers. He was in custody now, thanks to the king of Wakanda, T'Challa, who had given them all amnesty in his country following the events of the week before.

Initially, when Steve and Bucky had returned from Siberia, leaving the king and Tony Stark behind to bring the real fugitive in to Everett Ross, Steve had been grateful for somewhere to run to. He had been equally grateful that the king's genius younger sister Shuri had offered to help Bucky by deprogramming him from the Hydra conditioning. They had put Bucky back in cold sleep until Shuri could figure out the process that would give him his mind back, but that had left Steve with the conundrum of what to do about his comrades on the Raft. He did not want to leave them there, and it was obvious they would not be given legal representation or fair trial. T'Challa had offered assistance, though Steve had been reluctant to accept it and bring the king into a potentially sticky diplomatic problem if it was announced that he and his country had helped American fugitives escape from custody. In the end, it had been at the suggestion of his girlfriend Nakia to involve there Wardogs, the Wakandan spy network of which she was a high-ranking member, to assist them surreptitiously. They had provided transportation and the necessary technology that Steve needed to break out his friends without too much fuss and no loss of life. If they were caught again, it would be easier to justify a jailbreak than multiple deaths of federal agents trying to stop them. In the end, everyone had simply been tasered, and the cloaked Wakandan aircraft on which they had escaped had deposited them in Poland as Steve had requested and gone on about its way, hopefully never implicating the small African nation.

Once they had arrived on the European mainland, however, gears shifted to not being recognized and finding a safe place to be. Again, the king had offered sanctuary in his country, but he had been in the middle of consolidating power after his father's death followed by some kind of major problem with a cousin or something, of which Steve had not gotten the entire story, but had received a message from Shuri later assuring him that Bucky was still safe and that she was making progress in curing him. A little later, she had sent a message confirming that her brother was firmly in power and things were going well, and that they were welcome to return, but Steve had opted against it. He was profoundly grateful that the royal family was willing to shelter not just him but all of his comrades knowing the kind of diplomatic incident that could cause, but it was precisely because of that that he did not want to trouble them any further. Wakanda was in the process of trying to find its place in the world as the advanced nation that it was, and its isolationist culture was not going to go away overnight. Steve highly doubted that the presence of several white foreigners in the King's Palace would help T'Challa in his diplomatic attempts to bring his country out of the mists. And he didn't want to jeopardize Bucky's safety either, for Bucky truly did need to stay there, and he was really only able to do so now because nobody really knew he was there. That still left Steve with a conundrum of where to go and where to bring his fugitive team.

However, he had a few options. The first one had started when he had found the folded up piece of paper in the left leg cargo pocket of his suit. It was tucked away neatly under the small first aid kit that he always carried in that pocket. Like all of the rest of their gear, his suit and shield had been confiscated by the CIA when he had found Bucky in Romnia. Then Sharon Carter had retrieved their gear from the locker and given it to them, thereby painting a target on her own back and killing her career with the spy agency.

Steve's heart did another strange twist in his chest as he thought about Sharon. The former SHIELD agent who had lived next-door to him for two years, keeping an eye on him for Nick Fury. The one who had stood down Brock Rumlow the day the Trisk and SHIELD had fallen. Later, he had been able to review the video footage of that day and had been taken with the way she and her colleagues had stood up to the Hydra agents, buying them precious few seconds that had been needed to stop the ships. He had seen the vicious knife slash to her arm that had dropped her but she had still found a way to kick the hapless tech Cameron Klein away from the station in time to avoid him being shot, only to see her pop up and begin shooting at the STRIKE team members as if she felt nothing in her arm. Then she had dropped out of sight after SHIELD fell, and he had not thought much about her in the two years that followed. Then, two weeks ago, Peggy Carter had died and he had seen Sharon at the funeral and come to realize their familial connection. At first he had been irritated with her again, but hearing her explanation of why she had done the things she had and kept her relationship to Peggy a secret made sense to him and he had warmed towards her. When they had lived next-door to each other, he admitted he had quite the crush on her. Not knowing who she was, she had seemed sweet and nice and sardonically funny. Natasha Romanoff had told him once that one of the main things to remember about assuming an undercover identity long term was that it was important to try and be yourself as much as possible if it was longer than a month For example, she said, if you really like sushi for lunch, then your cover should probably like sushi as well, because it made it easier to not have to remember small details like that if they were really aspects of yourself. Sharon had mostly confirmed this notion in the few hours they had spent talking after Peggy's funeral, when he found her to be much of the same person he thought he had known in his neighbor "Kate," only perhaps a bit more jaded and with a biting sense of humor. Part of the reason he had been so irritated to find out that she was a spy for SHIELD was that he had believed he had known who she was as a person, only to discover that she was probably nothing like he thought. Then, at the funeral, he realized that she really was quite the same as she had always been, and that meant that the person he had a crush on did exist, he just knew her real name now. And she was Peggy's niece.

That had thrown him a bit. He wasn't sure if he was breaking some kind of unspoken social role or karmic laws by continuing to harbor feelings towards Sharon, knowing he might have been her uncle under different circumstances. But then, when she had literally thrown everything away to help him, he had to admit that he just didn't care who she was. He liked the girl, he wasn't her relative, and he just could not deny it to himself any longer. So he had kissed her. He half expected her to clock him across the jaw for it, but had been immensely relieved when she had returned the kiss. Quite enthusiastically, actually. Which Steve took to mean that his feelings were probably reciprocated on her end as well, and if she found their situation weird, it was not enough to prevent her from responding. But then they had been forced to part ways, everything had gone to shit, and now here he was trekking across cold dark Amsterdam streets looking for a place he had never been with several other people who could be severely punished if they were found.

He'd had the opportunity to talk with Sharon on the plane from England to Bern following the bombing about any contingency plans that they should have in place just in case they were needed. Sharon had admitted to him that old habits die hard and as a spy, she had several locations around the world and stashes that could help him if ever needed. They had arranged a secure means of communication, and when he had gone after Zemo in Siberia, Sharon had assured him that she would find a way to keep in touch. After everything has settled down and he was getting ready to leave WakAnda to retrieve his comrades on the raft, he had been meticulously going through his suit to make sure there were no tracers or other means of following him imbedded in it. As a soldier from World War II, it was his custom to obsessively go over every inch of his gear and weapons on a regular basis to check for any possibility of failure or tampering, as he had learned in the army. That was when he had found the small piece of paper under his pocket first aid kit. It ended up being coordinates to a small park in a village in Poland, which was why he had the King's transport deposit them all there. There was a World War II Memorial to fallen soldiers in the middle of the park, and he had immediately headed towards it. He found the next set of coordinates carefully chiseled near the boot of one of the soldiers in the concrete pedestal, which ended up being the location in Amsterdam to which they were currently heading. From satellite images, it appeared to be an old house converted from an ancient warehouse on one of the canals. He had no idea what they would find there, but he hoped it would involve a safe space behind a locked door where they could sleep. A warm place would be even better. Food would be heaven. He also hoped that it was indeed Sharon who was leading him there. The scrawl on the written note that he had memorized and burned had appeared roughly feminine, but that didn't mean anything. Barton's well-trained spy eye and Wanda's telepathic and telekinetic powers had not identified anyone following them at the park, so he was going to have to put his faith in the hope that this was not a trap.

He let himself hope briefly too that Sharon would be at the location they were heading towards. He really wanted to see her again. Talk to her. But he also told himself not to get his hopes up. It was highly unlikely that she would be quick to cross paths with them again, probably having gone underground in another location where she would be safe for some time. And even if she was there, it didn't necessarily mean anything. One kiss under a bridge did not make a relationship and he shouldn't expect too much of her, especially since she had, once again, just lost her entire world because of him, her job, her home, and all this only a week after losing her beloved aunt. She may not have been an adverse to a single kiss, but that didn't mean that she was OK in her head with the fact that he had been in love with her great aunt and now had feelings towards her. He was willing to bet he could reconcile that fact in his own mind, but he wasn't sure if Sharon had done so in hers. Not that he wouldn't be extremely happy to see her, I if only to know that she was safe and alive and not deposited on the Raft a few hours after he had broken his friends out of it.

Barton had slowed a bit to allow him and Wanda catch up, although Lang and Wilson continued to keep their distance across the street. They seemed to have arrived at the destination. The wind had picked up and rain was moving in. The wind was cold and chilly across the canals and the mist that hung in the air was starting to solidify into sticky rain. Steve suppressed a shiver. He never really told anyone, but he hated the cold. The crash that had sent him into hibernation had not sent him into a complete coma. Periodically, over the years, he would come to fuzzy consciousness and realize he was not yet dead. It had been horrifying, the wall of white and cold so deep he could not feel his body. More than once he had prayed for death, but had been rewarded only with unconsciousness again. Then SHIELD had found him and brought him back, and he realized it was 70 years later, everything was different, his friends were all dead, and Peggy was elderly and dying, having lived a full life with a family without him. He had never wished so deeply that he had perished in that crash. Forming a connection with the Avengers had been what saved him and brought him out of his shock and depression. Sam warned him that it was quite likely he was suffering from PTSD, not just from World War II but from the events that had brought him into the 21st-century. They talked about it frequently between the two of them, and Steve had to admit he was doing better, but nothing good has ever happened to him in the cold. He was adding up the events in Siberia to add to that theory. Surrounded by cold, he had lost the Avengers and Tony's friendship while trying to save Bucky. He fucking hated the cold.

He shook himself out of his ruminations as Hawkeye came to a stop in front of a set of steps leading up to a red door framed in white that was their destination. They looked at each other wordlessly and Steve glanced at Sam and Scott across the street as they turned down an alley out of sight keeping an eye out. If this ended up going south, at least the two of them had a chance to get away. Steve nudged Wanda behind him and motioned for Barton to bring up the rear behind her as he climbed the steps, took a deep breath, and knocked. A small panel slid up in the door and on it, for it appeared to be a touchscreen, came the message "Place hand over screen." He looked at Clint who shrugged, not sure if this was a trap, but Steve took a deep breath and placed his hand over the panel. It flashed green three times, and then words appeared on the panel. "Welcome Captain Rogers."

The door unlocked and swung open, revealing a shadowy entrance hall with no lights on and the slender figure of a blondish woman standing in the doorway. Steve's heart leapt for a bit. Was it Sharon? The woman urgently beckoned of them inside and without thinking, Steve stepped in, followed by Wanda and then by Barton. Sam and Scott came jogging across the street at Steve's wave and they quickly followed everybody inside. The woman closed the door securely behind them and locked it, and then turned to face them while snapping on the hallway light.

Steve's heart sank. The woman was not Sharon. She was built much like Sharon, slender and lithe, and the manner in which she held herself bespoke of some heavy combat training and conditioning. But who was she? Then, suddenly, he heard Clint draw in his breath sharply and Steve felt himself tense up ready for a fight or an ambush. But then Clint laughed.

"Bobbi?! Is that really you? "

Startled, the woman turned her gaze on to Clint with a shocked look on her face, which then crumpled into a familiar smile and she laughed, and threw her arms around his neck. Clint returned the hug affectionately.

"Goddamn, Hawkeye! Fancy meeting you here!" she said.

"You're about the last person I expected to see, Barbara Morse." Clint admitted. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," she said, "though I expect Thirteen sent you here, am I correct? She called this morning and told me to look out for Rogers and visitors, but she neglected to mention you."

"You know Sharon?" Steve asked. "And who are you?"

The woman turned her gaze on him, studying him as of seeing him for the first time, though Steve suspected this was not the first time she had ever seen him. "Captain Rogers," she said with a nod. "Yes I know Sharon."

"You talked to her this morning? Is she OK?" he asked

"As of this morning, yes," the woman named Bobbi replied. "She's looking for Romanoff, and she expects to be here after doing her best to locate her. We heard Nat went AWOL on Stark. That means her ass is in a sling if she's found. So Sharon went to look for her."

"Good luck finding Natasha," Clint grumbled. "She's only found one she wants to be. Although if I had to put money on it, Sharon is probably the best one to find her. After you that is."

Bobbi smiled. "Well if you're here with Rogers, I guess that means you were with the group the busted off the Raft. Everybody is up in arms. You've caused quite a stir."

"My heart is breaking," Clint grumbled. "But you haven't said what you're doing here in a safe house. I assume that's where we are?"

"Yeah, one of Sharon's," Bobbi said. "Me and Hunter had to bolt here after Coulson's group was forced to disavow us to keep us from being executed in Russian prison. I'll tell you all about it."

Clint's eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline. "Hunter? You guys back together again?"

"We should never have gotten divorced in the first place," came the genial voice of a young man with British accent. Everyone turned to see a shadow detach itself from the darkness in the living room beyond the entranceway and step into the light. The man was about the same age as Bobbi, in need of a shave, lanky but clearly also trained. He seemed to recognize Clint, for he grinned and offered his hand which Clint took and the two men yanked each other into a bro hug.

"I was about to advise you to take your hands off my wife," Hunter said in a joking tone. Clint laughed. Bobbi however was shaking her head.

"Well this is awkward," she said. "My ex-husband and my ex-boyfriend hugging like they're dating now. I should take a picture."

Steve's head was spinning at the revelation. This woman had dated Clint? And then had been married and divorced, then reconnected to the other man Clint was now hugging? He wondered if he had hit his head at some point. But the three seemed fairly familiar with each other, so he was only just now starting to relax in to the realization that this was likely not a trap. He was also working on wrapping his mind around the fact that apparently Phil Coulson was still alive. He was going to want details on that later. And where was Sharon?

Clint turned to the confuse looks of his shivering comrades and said "Bobbi and Sharon were roommates at SHIELD Academy. When Natasha defected from the Russian intelligence unit and came with me, the directors thought the best way to bring her into SHIELD was to have her go through a few rounds at the Academy. We didn't expect to teacher any new skills, it was mostly for socialization purposes. Only nobody wanted to room with the famous Black Widow. There were some morbid jokes about never waking up if you went to sleep in the same room with her."

"But Sharon stepped up," explained Bobbi. "We took her in and that's how the three of us came to know each other. Nat wasn't with us for long, like Clint said there wasn't anything she really needed to learn. It was more about socialization. But then she and Clint were off on missions together as partners and then Sharon and I didn't see them much."

"But you two dated?" Steve asked and pointed between Bobbi and Clint.

Bobbi nodded. "He would come by our room looking for Natasha, and we sort of hit it off. Briefly."

"And then she met me out in the field," said Hunter with a smile. "I was better looking."

Both Clint and Bobbi laughed. And then her face became somber. "How are Laura and the kids?"

Steve stifled his mild surprise that this woman would know about Clint's family when Steve himself had not known until it was necessary. But Clint only smiled sadly and said "They were OK the last time I talked to them. I'm hoping to get back to them soon."

Bobbi and Hunter nodded sympathetically.

"Well let's not stand here all night in the doorway," said Hunter. "We have some rooms picked out for you guys where you can crash, and stay here as long as you need to. This place is pretty well-stocked with provisions, tech, transportation, and security that impresses even me. But first you all look like you need something to eat. And could probably do with some warming up. I've got some bottles of Jameson in the kitchen."

"I heard that," said Clint shrugging off his duffel bag as Sam and Scott did the same. Steve shrugged off his own but did not drop it to the floor. Even though Clint seemed comfortable with these two, Steve preferred to keep the bag carrying his own gear in sight, though he missed his shield, which he had left behind for Tony in Siberia. It felt weird to not have it and just be carrying his duffel. He carried it into the kitchen following Bobbi and deposited in the corner. The others did the same as they shrugged out of their coats. Hunter was pulling bottles of beer out of the refrigerator and hauling a bottle of whiskey down from a cabinet. Wanda asked if she could just have water, and Bobbi smiled and said of course, though she could also make tea. A pot of something delicious smelling was boiling on the stove and Bobbi explained that she had kept it simmering all night, hoping they would come by, but that it reheated well if they had not. It turned out to be chicken pho. Everyone seem to know what that was, except Steve, and he watched in weary fascination as Bobbi ladled out humongous bowls of broth and noodles and placed a large plate of basil and mint leaves, beans sprouts and chopped up jalapeños along with a large bottle of what looked like hot sauce in the middle of the table. Sririacha sauce, Sam called it. Steve followed everyone's lead as they all gathered the items from the plate and dropped them in their bowls and began eagerly gulping down. Wanda doled out a generous helping of the hot sauce into his bowl and advised him to mix it up. After taking several gulps, Steve had to admit it was really good. It was basically chicken soup, and who didn't love that on a cold wet night after trudging through hell? He could feel his insides starting to warm up, although the gratefully accepted beer was not doing as much for him as it was doing for the others, who seemed to be relaxing.

As they ate, Bobbi filled them all in on her and Hunter's adventures following the fall of SHIELD. She had infiltrated a Hydra cell and in the process had come across Phil Coulson, still alive, and leading a group of expatriate SHIELD agents, including Melinda May, which had caused Clint to choke a bit on his soup in surprise and mumble something about a cavalry. The group that she had hooked up with originally had merged with his and SHIELD seemed to be on its way to reforming and going legit, which, unfortunately, meant they couldn't go to Phil's group, being fugitives. She explained how Coulson had evaded death, and the adventures of his group after she and Hunter had joined. Then she explained how she and Hunter had been caught on a mission in Russia, and the lengths that Coulson had been forced to go through to save their lives, which had involved disavowing them. Coulson had been able to spirit them funds and resources when they left, and at first they had gone to London to visit Hunter's family. But then, they realized that they could never be happy as civilians, and Bobbi had contacted Sharon working at the CIA who had given them the location of the safe house.

"What's special about this place?" Scott had asked.

"As far as we know," Hunter said, "nobody knows about it but Sharon. Apparently, her aunt was a high up agent in SHIELD decades ago, but had warned Sharon that working for fickle intelligence agencies usually meant that at some point they were going to have to disavow you and imprison you to cover their own asses. That she should always have a bolt hole to run to that was not on official channels. It's also well-funded. Apparently her aunt had independent resources nobody ever knew about. This place was supposed to be a secret location to house Sharon's family if it were ever needed. A place no official channel would know about."

"Like I did," Clint said. "It took a good deal of effort to keep my family and farm location off the books. I'm pretty grateful for that now, considering what went down with SHIELD."

"You'll have to get Sharon to explain the whole story to you, if she ever comes by," said Bobbi. "But apparently this house was originally her aunt's. Nobody knew about it except her and her aunt. Then, when me and Hunter needed a place to go, she had asked her aunt if it was OK for us to come here and her aunt said yes. I've been meaning to thank her and if I ever get the chance."

"She passed away last week," said Steve quietly.

Bobbi seemed surprised. "You knew her?"

Steve realized that Sharon had not volunteered certain information to her former roommate, and so he just nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bobbi said somberly. "I wish she would have mentioned it, but she was sort of in a hurry. She only said to look out for you guys. That she was sending you here."

"When will she get here?" asked Steve, trying not to appear too eager for an answer.

"Honestly I have no idea," said Bobby. "She may not even head here at all. I actually have only seen her once since Hunter and I got here a couple of years ago. Not that we're here all the time. We get bored sitting around. And with so much evil in the world, there is no shortage of work to do. We go out on freelance missions on occasion. There's no telling if she's even coming here when she's finished doing whatever she's doing. I assume this is probably not the only place in the world she has to run to."

Sam glanced at Steve knowingly, and Steve tried not to seem too disappointed. He had been hoping Sharon would be here, safe and sound when he arrived. Now, he wasn't sure if he would even ever see her again. He tried not to focus on how much that idea disappointed him. Or how much he was beginning to miss her. The rest of the meal past somewhat amicably, with Bobbi and Hunter asking Clint about his family, Natasha, about people they had known in SHIELD, and for details on what had happened with the splitting of the Avengers. But when Steve noticed Wanda basically asleep on her hand at the table, and glanced at his watch and saw it was midnight, he slowly stood up and the others got the hint.

Hunter stood up quickly and begin to gather the now-empty bowls. "I'll clean up in here," he said. "Bobbi can show you where you can sleep."

"We can help clean up," said Scott, nodding at Sam as they moved to help.

"Thanks mate," said Hunter, "but I've got it, really. You go catch some shut eye. You can make waffles in the morning or something."

Scott gave the other man a tired grin and nodded, leaving Hunter to clear the table. Bobbi motioned for everyone to follow her, and they grabbed their bags and followed.

"There's one bedroom and full bath on this floor," she said, "and me and Hunter have that one. Sharon has a room on the second floor that we kind of leave open in case she ever drops in. It's her house after all. There's a room for Natasha down the hall from her, and another room that you can have, Captain. The rest of you are on the third floor. All floors have two full baths and the first floor has a half bath off the kitchen. There is a full gym and other stuff in the basement that we'll show you tomorrow."

Steve met Clint's interested glance. Hunter had mentioned that the place was well stocked with not just provisions but also tech. Was the basement where the tech was? Steve supposed they would find out soon enough. He allowed Bobbi to lead them to the various rooms she had mentioned, gave Wanda a reassuring shoulder squeeze as the younger woman followed the others up to the third-floor. He hoped she would get some rest now that they seem to be safe. Of all of them, that kid needed the most. Steve made his way to the bedroom that Bobbi had pointed out for him. It was comfortably decorated with a large bed and a flat screen TV on wall. There was a dresser and a walk-in closet. A window overlooked the canals down below. He was not an expert in spy craft, but he carefully swept the room looking for bugs or other recording devices. He found none, although he knew that didn't mean they weren't there. He sighed at the fact that he was becoming so paranoid. He supposed it was the company he kept.

Bobbi stuck her head in the open doorway. "Captain, you've got the bathroom down the hall if you want to shower. And something else I need to point out if you don't mind?"

He nodded and she stepped in the room motioning for him to follow her to the walk-in closet. "All of the rooms in this house have an escape hatch." She opened the door and pointed out the small trap door in the floor of the closet. She explained how one stood on it for five seconds without moving, then stomped your foot on it three times strongly and the trap door would open and deposit you into a tunnel slide to that wound its way down to the vehicle depot beneath the house. From there, there were multiple routes of exit and transportation should an attack ever come through one of the doors or windows. Steve had to admit he was impressed. That was good to know. After bidding him good night, Bobbi trotted out of the room and down the stairs to her own room.

Steve gathered up some clothes to sleep in, but before heading to the bathroom, made his way upstairs to ensure that the others were settling in. Scott Lang appeared to have fallen directly asleep on top of his bed without bothering to get under the covers, although Wanda had thrown on some nightclothes found in the drawer of her room and was already asleep in her bed. Sam was in the shower, and Clint was lounging on his bed surfing channels, but not looking at all tired enough to go to sleep. Knowing Clint, Steve figured the other man would probably be up most of the night making sure there was no trap. Steve made a mental note to get as much sleep as he could so that he could stay up while Clint was asleep later. He figured the seasoned spy was not going to allow himself to rest unless he knew someone like Steve was conscious somewhere in the building. After bidding everyone good night, he headed back down to his own floor. He headed to the bathroom, but stopped at the door that Bobbi had indicated was Sharon's room. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened it.

He stepped inside and looked around. Unlike his own room, and the rooms that his companions were sleeping in, this one did seem to be a bit more personalized. The bedspread was what looked like a handmade quilt, not a generic department store bedspread like one could find for just any old room. There were three pictures on the dresser, one of two people who appeared to be Sharon's parents based on the resemblance, one of Peggy, and another that look like the entire Carter clan taken together at what was probably a family reunion, with an old photograph of Peggy's husband superimposed into one corner and another, more modern picture of a young man in army gear superimposed into another. Steve recognize Peggy's grown children and some of her grandchildren in the picture. He had seen them at the funeral. An elderly Peggy sat in the middle of the group, surrounded by her grown children and grandchildren and one great-grandchild. Sharon stood with her mother near one end. Steve noted that Sharon strongly resembled her mother, not the rest of the Carter clan. Her father had died in combat years before this picture would have been taken, and Peggy's husband Daniel Sousa would have been dead twenty years at that point following a sudden stroke, Peggy's son had told him. The second photo of the young man in combat gear must be Harrison Carter, Sharon's father and Peggy's nephew. He stared at the picture for several minutes, making a mental note to check on the Carters when he was certain there would be no harm to him or them, to make sure they didn't suffer any fallout from his or Sharon's choices and actions. They were civilians and should be left out of this, and he didn't want anyone harassing them.

The pictures would be convincing enough that this was really Sharon's place, and Clint seemed to recognize Bobbi and Hunter, but he knew a part of him would be uneasy until he saw Sharon herself standing in this house, reassuring him that all was OK. If only he could be certain that this was truly her place and she had led him here. He pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, hoping that this didn't make him too much of a creeper and also hoping this wasn't an underwear drawer or something, but he wasn't sure what he was hoping to find. The drawer seemed to be filled with size 6 women's clothes, similar to the ones he had seen her wear when she was posing as his neighbor. Then he saw the holster with the gun in it in the corner. It was well worn and the strap slightly frayed. It was a thigh holster. He felt himself smile and he ran his fingertips over it.

 _This must be the one Peggy gave her when she joined SHIELD, the one she had mentioned._

He was still uneasy, but he was less uneasy than before. This wouldn't have fazed Clint, in fact Clint or Nat would probably view this as evidence of a trap lying in wait. But Sharon seemed to know him, knew how he would think. He felt in his gut that this was a legit sign from her, left in a way he would accept. He took a deep breath, closed the drawer and left the room, closing the door behind him. The shower felt amazing, and the bed was fairly comfortable too, but he still tossed and turned, his mind jumbled with the weight of everything that was happening. The Avengers split, half of them imprisoned and then jailbroken out, the look on Tony's face when he saw the video and then attacked. Dropping the shield behind him. The voices of US senators on TV disavowing him and his fugitive friends and questioning their character for not signing the Accords. The haunted look on Wanda's face. The sad one on Clint's knowing he couldn't return to his wife and children. The anxiety of wondering where Sharon and Natasha were and if they were still free and safe. Fear that someone would discover T'Challa's role in helping him and cause a diplomatic incident with Wakanda. What would become of Bucky? What did their future hold? It was almost too much. It was two hours before he finally fell asleep. Three hours later, he woke to the sound of birds chirping in the trees outside and the growing light of the sun coming up over the canals of Amsterdam.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve listened carefully to the quiet sounds of the large, unfamiliar house, his enhanced hearing allowing him to hear what normal ears wouldn't. On the floor above him, Wanda was still asleep, as were Sam and Scott, based on their even breathing. Clint must have heard him stir and, knowing Steve was awake, seemed to just now be settling down to sleep a few hours himself, having stayed awake as sentinel so the rest of them could rest. His own floor was quiet, since he was the only one on it. But his sharp ears heard the sounds of movement below. Hunter was still snoring softly, but he could hear Bobbi padding to their bathroom and turning on the sink.

He slowly stretched, rolled and sat upon the side of the bed. He had some clothes in his duffel though he had found the drawers of his room had men's clothing that fit him, making him wonder if Sharon or anyone else had anticipated the day he would have to come here? And for how long? He careful he stood up and stretched, and made his way to the bathroom. He was quick, and after worked his way down stairs toward the kitchen where it seemed that Bobbi had gone to start coffee from the scent waiting up the stairs. Everyone else still seemed to be asleep, though he could hear some stirring. He carefully made his way to the kitchen but before he even came through the door way, Bobbi's voice called out softly.

"Good morning, Captain Rogers."

"Steve," he said coming in the doorway, trying not to be surprised that her back was still turned and yet somehow she knew it was him. He had long since learned not to question the ways of spies. "At least when we're not in uniform."

She tossed a sardonic grin over her shoulder and pointed at the row of mugs on the counter that held steaming coffee. She must figure that everybody would be up soon if she had went ahead and poured it. He grabbed the nearest mug, and sat on the barstool at the counter sipping slowly and looking around the kitchen to get a better take of the area than he did last night when he had been so tired. The entire house had an ancient feel about it, it was clearly older than he was, which was saying something. The walls were whitewashed and hung with local artwork and odds and ends. The heavy dark beams that ran across the ceiling had obviously come from some ancient hardwood forest decades ago, probably a century ago. He would later learn that this house and numerous ones on either side of it had once been warehouses for merchants bringing their wares up the canals to be sold at the markets in Amsterdam in the 1800s. They had been converted to houses and sold out to wealthy families, making the neighborhood somewhat upscale. The furnishings, however, did not seem very personal. A department store decorator probably could have staged this entire house in an afternoon, not that it was uncomfortable. The sofas and chairs in the living room were comfortable enough to sleep on, and the pillows and blankets tossed around on various pieces of furniture invited curling up on a cold afternoon with a book and a mug of tea. Rather like he envisioned Peggy probably used lito do to pass the time in the years after the war.

But it was also equally obvious that the house had not really been lived in for very long either. Bobbi and Hunter had been there for two years, but he would also later learn that they were not really there all that often. The house was meant to be a place of downtime between missions. The furniture, while comfortable, didn't show much sign of wear and tear that was usual in furniture in homes that had people constantly collapsing on to them. The sheets on the beds didn't have that occasional stray thread that came from multiple washings after multiple uses. And he had noticed that although there were modern appliances in the kitchen like a dishwasher, Bobbi didn't seem to use them since it was just her and Hunter, and most of the time they would use the same two dishes, wash them, leave them on the drying rack, and then just reuse them. The house was cozy, it had been Peggy's, but it still was slightly impersonal. And he felt like an interloper. He knew it was silly of him, Sharon had obviously sent him here, but it was still not home. Not that he really had a place he could call home. He wasn't even sure anymore what would make place a home now.

"After everyone wakes up," Bobbi said, snapping him back to reality, "I'm going to take all of you around the house and show you the controls for things. It looks like a sturdy old Dutch house, but the controls probably rival Tony Stark's. There's a set of printed instructions Sharon left for me and Hunter when we first got here, I'll show you where we put them. You'll have to know how to work everything when me and Hunter leave tomorrow."

"You're leaving?" he asked in surprise.

She nodded. "We're not currently employed by any recognized intelligence agency, but that doesn't mean we stop looking for problem causers in the world. You guys handled Hydra pretty well, and so did Coulson's crew. But Hydra isn't the only set of miscreants in the world."

"Where are you two going?" he asked. "Or can you say?"

"I would if I knew," said Bobbi. "At this point we're just following a lead. No idea how long we'll be gone, but we're usually not gone longer than a month. I don't think it'll be that long this time. Probably two or three weeks. Unless we find something else that's somewhere we didn't anticipate. We aren't used to keeping in touch with anyone, but we'll try to give you guys a heads up or send a message if it looks like our timeline might be different. Just so you know to expect us or not."

"What if we hadn't come last night or today?" he asked.

"Most likely we would still be leaving," she said. "We've already delayed three days to wait for you guys. We don't want to lose the lead. But we wanted to be here when you got here. If nothing else, so if I hear from Sharon, I can tell her honestly that you made it safe and sound."

"She was worried?" he asked.

"Not worried exactly," said Bobbi, pulling out an entire carton of eggs and cracking each one open to make what look like a jumbo sized omelet.

Steve sighed and went back to his coffee. He wanted badly to ask more about her conversations with Sharon, but the other woman didn't seem to have much else to volunteer. It was frustrating. But then, maybe Sharon would call here and he would at least get to talk to her. Not only did he want to see her, he also wanted to know if she had found Natasha.

At that moment, Scott and Sam came strolling into the kitchen already fully dressed. They grinned at Steve's and sat on the stool next to him, each reaching for a cup of coffee.

"That smells good," said Scott. "You need a hand with any of that?"

Steve stood up, wincing at his forgotten manners. He should have been the one to volunteer to help Bobbi, who was clearly making enough breakfast to feed everybody.

"I won't turn it down," she said with a smile. "Somebody start putting pieces of bread on for toast, and somebody haul out the bacon."

Steve went to the refrigerator to retrieve the bacon and found a frying pan that would work, and he began frying thick slices for everybody. Wanda, Hunter, and a little later Clint, who obviously had not gotten as much sleep as Steve would have liked to see, came wandering in for breakfast. They all sat around the table, more animated than the night before after a decent rest, even Wanda, and tore into eggs, toast, bacon, coffee and juice. Hunter was telling them that in order to keep from being recognized, they usually had the groceries delivered.

"You can order online," he was saying, writing down the web address of the local chain store that would deliver. "Just fill out everything, and it's charged to this house account."

"What account?" asked Steve.

"You'd have to ask Sharon for specifics," said Bobbi. "But apparently her aunt had independent sources of income, I think from Howard Stark actually. Remember, they all came up at a time that was pretty different from how things are now, though I suspect you appreciate that, Captain. It wasn't until 1976 that women were allowed to get bank accounts in their own names in America, and I'm not sure when it was in England, but it wasn't much better. Apparently Sharon's aunt had funneled some sources of income into a Swiss Bank account. The expenses of people living here are drawn from that account."

"We don't know how much is in it," said Hunter. "Sharon told us not to worry about it, and at first it wasn't easy to do. We didn't want to feel like freeloaders. But apparently it's substantial enough to pay the utility bills here and the groceries. And from the tech running through the walls of this place, the energy bills are either substantial, or this place is running on some other source of energy. We never really went to look into it. And we aren't here often enough to make an issue of it."

"Knowing Sharon," said Clint, "this place is not on the grid. You might have cursory electricity and utilities coming to the house just so as not to spark any suspicion from anyone searching through the records, but I suspect any strong power needs probably come from some other source, maybe something similar to Tony's arc reactor."

"All questions for Sharon," said Bobbi. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have sent us all here if the place were in danger of exploding."

That earned a chuckle from everyone around the table, and they finished eating. Sam and Scott insisted on doing the dishes, while Bobbi and Hunter took them around the house to show them the features they had missed last night. She demonstrated the usual controls for a house in the panels on the wall, which included the lights and the HVAC system. Sam, Scott, and even Clint were excited to see the range of video game consoles hidden in a panel underneath the large flatscreen TV in the living room, all of which could be hidden by a drop-down painting that hid all of the electronics and turned the room into a cozy sitting room devoid of electronics with just a gas powered fireplace. Hunter made sure that everybody knew about the escape hatches in their closets, and Bobbi insisted that everybody try them at least once. Wanda was somewhat hesitant, but Scott found it incredibly exhilarating and had to be stopped from trying it out multiple times.

"Honestly," sighed Bobbi. "It's like living with toddler sometimes. When we first got here, Hunter spent an entire afternoon just sliding from the different rooms down to the motor pool."

When the slides deposited them in the garage beneath the house, Bobbi showed them the three vehicles, a sedan, an SUV, and a motorcycle, each one capable of cloaking and flight with SHIELD technology. They were fairly recent models, so Sharon must've stashed them there sometime recently. Probably after SHIELD fell. It would've made sense that she had come here after the fall of the agency but before she had started working for the CIA. SHIELD agents were wanted fugitives at that time.

But it was the basement of the house that got everyone's attention. It was clear that the space underneath the house extended far out from just the property the house occupied. The area underneath the house was cavernous, not unlike a large gym or workout facility built in a hanger. There was every type of training equipment that Steve had ever recognized, and some he hadn't, along with a sparring ring in the middle and several heavy bags hanging from a steel and iron crossbeam of which there were several running across the ceiling that were clearly part of the network holding up the house. Steve highly doubted that this had been here when the house itself was built, and was interested to know what resources Peggy and Sharon had employed to not only have this place built but keep it a secret.

Clint whistled softly, impressed, and then moved over to an area that was cordoned off from the rest of the workout area, which appear to be a control room of some kind with several terminals and electronic equipment.

"What you're looking at here," said Hunter gesturing around the control room, "is a mini SHIELD control station. Those servers over there, they're all contained. They're not connected to any of SHIELD's servers and certainly not to any official agency of any country. Essentially, the Carters have their own version of the Internet running from this basement. It allows us all to stay in touch, communicate without easily being recognized or found, but it can cross the Internet for information. The only thing missing is an AI like Tony Stark has running his house. Apparently that was technology the Starks didn't share with the Carters."

"How long has this been here?" asked Steve.

"At least since me and Sharon were in SHIELD academy," said Bobbi. "We sometimes used this communication network to talk to each other independently of our instructors knowing. It was a game back then, students seeing if they could come up with communication systems that the instructors didn't know about. They usually did, but I'm pretty sure they didn't know about this one though."

They followed Bobbi and Hunter up the stairs that came out in the kitchen, although Bobbi pointed out that there were two other ways down to the basement from other areas of the house. Steve and Clint spent the rest of the afternoon exploring every inch of the building, making sure there were no hidden crevices that they didn't know about. Sam and Scott challenged each other to a game of Fortnite on one of the gaming consoles, and Wanda curled up on the sofa behind them to periodically watch while perusing a novel she had found on the shelf. Bobbi and Hunter began making preparations to leave the next day.

They scrounged sandwiches for lunch, and later made hamburgers for dinner. Steve had to admit that he could get used to the camaraderie of meals around the table with these friends who had stood by him, but he knew it was only a shadow. Scott and Clint were already talking about making plans that would allow them to return to their families and children, Bobbi and Hunter would be in and out, and Sam was worried that isolating Wanda would not be good for her mental health, though it would be important to make sure that if they left the premises, it would be under disguise. Steve didn't mention what he was thinking, but he still entertained hope that somehow they could set all this right and return to either the tower in New York or the compound upstate. Even if they didn't go into battle because of the accords, could they at least return home? He had a sneaking suspicion that this time the answer to that question would be no.

Bobbi and Hunter left the next day as promised, and Steve spent the next three days waiting to hear from word from Sharon. But there was nothing. He wasn't sure if that meant good or bad news. Clint assured him that it didn't mean either, it simply meant that she and likely Natasha were not in a position to safely communicate with them, nor would they unless it was absolutely necessary, lest that communication lead the authorities to them. Steve tried to take heart at what Clint said, but as each day passed by without word from Sharon or Natasha, and the news constantly cycling everybody's faces and telling the world how dangerous they were, his hope begin to diminish.

******

A week and a half had passed and Steve and his companions were beginning to understand the true meaning of the word "stircrazy." Even though the house was comfortable and they were beginning to settle into it with familiarity, it was still not home to most of them. Both Clint and Scott were really chomping at the bit to get back to their families, even if it meant being arrested. Clint was reasonably sure that nobody knew about his family or his farm out in the middle of nowhere, and that he could return without consequence. Steve pointed out that Tony knew about it, and would certainly have gone looking for him there. But Clint simply shrugged.

"I'm not just going to disappear on my wife and kids," he said. "Even if it means being arrested, I have to go back."

"Me too," said Scott. "I can only imagine how pissed off Hope and Hank are at me at the moment and I honestly can't say what my ex-wife and her husband are thinking right now. I'm imagining everything from 'we believe in you Scott and you did the right thing' to 'you are never going to see Cassie again, you imbecile.' Part of me doesn't even want to know what they would all say, but I can't stay underground like a coward and never find out. Even if it means back to jail for me, I need to head home."

Steve had nodded sadly and clapped both men on the shoulder saying he understood. But, he said, wait at least one more week. "I'm not saying never go home again, I know you want to see your kids, but it's probably better to travel when you don't have the whole world looking for your faces."

The two men nodded and went back to their game.

Steve looked over at Sam who was lounging in one of the chairs. He looked up. "I'm pretty good right here, Cap," he said. "Unless you tell me to go back to DC, I plan on hanging out here for a while."

"Me too," said Wanda, not looking up from where she was trying to crochet a hat from the yarn and crochet hooks she had found in a closet. It didn't seem to be going well. "I guess Vision never wants to see me again, and it's not like I can go strolling back into Tony's place. Barring that, I don't really have anywhere else to go."

Steve had nodded and left them to their pasttimes while heading down to the control room to see if there were any messages from anybody, Sharon, Natasha, or Bobbi and Hunter. There weren't.

He dropped his face into his hands.

****

Later that night, he was lying on his bed trying not to toss and turn. It was one o'clock in the morning and he had barely slept or ate in the last several days. He wasn't sure if it was due to worry or any number of factors, so he didn't really know how to address the sleeplessness. He was only thankful that everyone else seemed to be resting peacefully, even Wanda, and it seemed that Clint, knowing that Steve would be awake anyway, had allowed himself to finally fall asleep and get some rest during the night.

He was mulling around an idea about leaving the others here and going to try and find Sharon or Natasha himself, when he heard the sound of movement down below. He sat up in bed sharply, then carefully and soundlessly swung his feet to the ground. He crept softly down the darkened hallway and nearly ran full smack into Clint. Apparently the well trained spy had heard the movement down below as well, and had come down with his bow drawn ready to fight. Steve motioned to him and Clint fell in behind him to provide cover. They slowly moved towards the stairs that lead to the first floor. They crouched on the landing out of sight in the darkness and listened carefully. The front door was unlocking and opening. At first, Steve wondered if it was Bobbi and Hunter returning, and then he remembered they had taken the sedan from the motor pool, and would likely return by way of the garage.

Clint tensed behind him and slowly begin to draw the arrow, not all the way but not at rest either. Steve positioned himself, ready to spring. The front door opened, and two figures tumbled inside and closed it behind them. They started whispering to each other in the darkness, but they did not seem to be speaking English. Then, with a start, Steve realize they were speaking Russian. The entry hall light came on as one of the figures hit the switch and the other one pulled back the hood of a hoodie. Auburn curls tumbled out from under the hood and Steve recognized Natasha Romanoff. The other figure next to her who had turned on the light also pulled back a hood and blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail came into view. It was Sharon Carter.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! I was handed two massive writing projects at work and they've been kicking my butt. But keep reading! I never leave stories unfinished. Usually. :-)**

Chapter 3

Steve had to resist the urge to pinch himself. After nearly three weeks waiting for these two women to show up or get any kind of word of them, here they were standing in the entranceway to the safe house. Given the late hour, the dimness of the rest of the house and the fact that everyone else was asleep, the entire scene had something of a surreal quality to it. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't still up in his bed, still sleep and dreaming this whole thing. Had he been so desperate to see Sharon and to know Natasha was safe that he was dreaming up hallucination?

Then he felt a whisp of air as Clint, having recognized the two, brushed past him and landed on the first floor, deposited his bow on a table, and ran over to Natasha to scoop her up into a hug. She pretended to be surprised, but Steve knew that she had probably heard them coming down the stairs long before they had even realized who was standing in the doorway. Sharon looked slightly surprised at the site of Clint appearing out of the darkness to enfold Natasha in a huge bear hug, but she quickly recovered and smiled. Steve never knew how or when his feet started moving, but the next thing he knew, he was only a few feet away from Sharon, his eyes locked on her. It was if the house around them and the other two people in the room simply faded out of existence, as the only thing he could see was a woman in front of him, her blonde hair seeming to glow in the dim entrance way light.

She turned to face him and her eyes took him in, standing there in just his sleep shirt and shorts, staring at her like he was seeing a ghost. Then her face relaxed into an expression of relief.

"You made it," she said, in a relieved tone. "Not that I doubted it."

Steve wanted to reply with something witty, something that would make her smile even more, but given the late hour, and the fact that he was still processing that she was really standing in front of him, he found that words escaped him entirely, so he settled for just stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. She made a slight surprised noise, then wrapped her arms around him in return. Most of the hugs that Steve had either received or given had often lasted maybe ten seconds long at most. But this one just felt so good that he was perfectly content to stay here all night simply holding her. He felt her relax into the hug and lay her head on his chest with a deep sigh.

He buried his face into her hair and inhaled her scent, something that reminded him of honeysuckle. It was soft and reminded him of corn silk, and he had to repress the urge to run his fingers through her hair.

He had no idea how long they stood there, but he suddenly became aware that Clint and Natasha were staring at them.

"Awwww that's actually kind of sweet," said Nat.

Steve and Sharon pulled apart reluctantly. Clint and Natasha were staring at them, with slight smiles. Clint looked like he was seeing a three headed chicken or something, clearly not something he had expected to see. Steve had to wonder exactly what kind of impression everyone had of him that the sight of him hugging a girl was astounding. After all, it's not like he was a robot.

Steve glanced over at Natasha and then over at Sharon and couldn't help but notice how tired the two women seemed. Normally both of them held themselves straight and upright with the bearing of someone who has been extensively trained in physical combat and intelligence. Now, however, both of them were standing slightly slumped over, with an air of exhaustion around them, the cold wet air outside still lingering on their clothes. Normally, both women had bright eyes and a somewhat snarky demeanor. Now, however, they were both silent and somber. When Steve had been holding Sharon close to him, he had felt her shaking slightly. It was a sign of exhaustion.

"You two look like you have just crawled across a war zone," he quipped.

"Just about," said Sharon, stifling a yawn. "We haven't really slept in about two days, and I think the last thing we ate was about 24 hours ago."

"And it was freezing cold on the train," said Natasha, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

"I found Nat at one of our previously agreed-upon meet up spots in Ljubljana, Eastern Europe," said Sharon. "Given that the entire world is looking for our faces, hers more than mine, we thought it was best to forget about public transportation and hide out in cattle cars. We rode cattle trains all the way back across to France and then made our way up here. There wasn't a lot of opportunity to pop into a café for a sandwich."

"Or sleep," said Natasha.

Steve helped Sharon out of her jacket and said "Well there's some leftover pizza in the kitchen if either of you are interested. I don't think anybody will mind if you eat it."

"Pizza?" said both women at the same time, and then immediately started moving towards the kitchen. Steve and Clint grinned and followed them. Steve went to the refrigerator and hauled out the box of unfinished pizza, which Natasha snatched out of his hands and plunked in front of her and Sharon. The two each grabbed a slice and tore into it like starved piranhas. Clint grabbed some of Hunter's beer from the door and set it in front of each of them. Steve wanted to pepper them both with questions about where they had been and why it took so long to get here, but he remembered his manners and forced himself to hold back while they ate. He realized it would likely be tomorrow before he got any answers, for clearly they were both hungry and exhausted and needed to recuperate. The only questions that were asked came from the two women.

"So it was all over the world news about the jail break from the Raft," said Sharon. "Did you manage to get everyone out?"

"Yes," said Steve. "Everyone. We were lucky, no one was hurt."

"I'm definitely going to want the story of how you managed to do that," said Sharon.

"Wanda's here? Sam?" asked Natasha

"Wanda, Sam, and Scott Lane," said Clint.

"What about Barnes?" asked Natasha. "Is he here too?"

"No," said Steve. "He's in Wakanda. He went back into cold sleep, and apparently they have the ability to do that there."

Both Sharon and Natasha looked up in surprise.

Natasha looked thoughtful. "I got a good look at the king's 'cat suit.' It was quite advanced, nothing a small poor African nation of farmers would have been able to produce. I'm guessing that that little country is hiding a few secrets."

"Which I will tell you all about," said Steve. "I've seen it firsthand. And since you're here now with us, I don't figure there's any point in keeping it a secret, or about where Bucky is."

"I understand why he would want to go back to sleep," said Natasha. "But do they also have the means of helping him?"

"Apparently the king's sister is a greater genius than Tony," said Clint. "If you can believe that. She says she can."

Natasha nodded, looking thoughtful, and then went back to her pizza, but Steve couldn't help but notice that she also looked a little disappointed. Given that the last time she saw Bucky he tried to strangle her, and she had once mentioned something about him shooting her years ago, he intended to ask her exactly why the look of disappointment. Because Sharon was actually looking a little relieved. Steve tried not to let that bother him, the last time Sharon saw Bucky, he had flung her into a table and knocked out cold. Without any kind of firm grip on his Winter Soldier personality, he was indeed dangerous to be around. It would be difficult to sleep in this house if he were in it. At least until they knew for sure that he was in control of himself.

The two women devoured three pieces of pizza each and a beer, and some of the chocolate muffins that Wanda had made a few days earlier. Then, with exhausted yawns, they got up and grabbed their gear.

"Are Bobbi and Hunter here?" asked Sharon.

"No, they went out a couple weeks ago. They didn't say where they were going," said Steve.

Sharon shrugged, looking a little disappointed, but not worried. "They'll be back," she said. "Until then, Nat, you can shower in the downstairs bathroom just down that hall. But your bedroom I set aside for you should be on the second floor. As for me, I shower sounds like the next thing to heaven."

Natasha nodded and headed for the bathroom next to the room that Bobbi and Hunter had been sleeping in. Sharon headed for the stairs to the second floor. Steve followed her.

Clint was checking to make sure that the alarm was re-engaged, said good night to everybody and headed back up to his room on the third floor. Steve headed for his room, hesitating because he really wanted to talk to Sharon alone, but was forcing himself to accept that it was not going to be right now. He had been so eager to see her, it was difficult to let her go on her way, though he knew she really needed to rest. When she got to her door, she turned to face him.

"Everything OK in your room?" he asked.

"It's perfect, thanks," he said. "Everyone seems comfortable where they are."

She nodded. "Good. I guess Bobbi told you that you can stay here as long as you want. This looks like where I'll be crashing for the foreseeable future anyway. Until I work out what I'm supposed to be doing next."

"I'm sorry Sharon", he said quietly. "I know I've messed up things for you."

She shrugged. "Nothing I didn't know was coming. I knew what I was getting into. And I don't regret a second of it. I totally do it all again."

"Sometime that's not right now," he said, "I'm going to have to ask you why."

"Sometime that's not right now, I'll tell you," she said with a smile.

He nodded and smiled back, his arms itching to circle her again. But he held himself back.

"Good night Steve," she said, opening the door and going into her room.

"Good night, Sharon," he said, forcing himself to head to his own room and go through the door, closing it behind him, before he followed her into her room and caught her up in the hug he desperately wanted to give her. Or another kiss.

He crawled back into bed and lay there on his back staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds within the house that told him where everybody was and what they were doing. Apparently, Sam, Scott, and Wanda had slept through everything given their steady breathing on the floor above him. He heard Clint settling down up there too, but knew it would be another hour or so before the other man dropped off to sleep. That was just how Clint was. Natasha had apparently rushed through her shower, because she was already making her way up the stairs to the room that Sharon had designated as hers. Steve heard her crawl into the bed, and she was asleep fairly quickly. That surprised him, given how cautious Natasha was about her surroundings, but perhaps it was knowing that both he and Clint were relaxed in this place that let her relax too.

He tried not to listen to hard for Sharon, but once everyone else was accounted for, he naturally turned his attention towards the sounds she was making. She was in the bathroom down the hall, and the shower was running. That meant that she was less than 20 feet away from him, in the shower, naked with water running down her skin. Steve cursed his traitorous mind that then rewarded him with a mental image of what that must look like. He stifled a groan and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his groin. She seemed to stay in the shower forever, although in actuality it was probably only about seven minutes. But it seemed like forever to Steve. As he heard her get out of the shower and move around in the bathroom, his mind decided to bombard him with images of that, her naked moving around getting ready for bed.

 _Baseball statistics. How to hotwire a car. Being dropped off a helicarrier into the Potomac. Your former elderly neighbor's 208_ _th_ _hour-long story about one of her five cats. Anything but Sharon!_ he frantically told himself.

It worked a little bit, especially when Sharon finally came out of the bathroom, headed to her bedroom, and collapsed on the bed. Given her breathing, she was asleep within five minutes. She must have really been tired. Steve felt himself getting up, with the intention to go look at her, but then forced himself back down, figuring that was too creepy to stare at a woman he only sort of knew while she was sleeping. His mother would have killed him for even thinking it. He needed to mind his own business and let her rest. But his mind once again led him down the path of mental images that included him lying in the bed next to Sharon, her steady breathing whispering against his chest, her hair spread out on the pillow next to his nose. His arm around her. And then no clothes between them.

 _That's enough!_ He mentally yelled at himself. _Go the hell to sleep, Rogers!  
_  
He stifled a whimper as he rolled over, trying to ignore the aching sensation between his legs. It was a long time before he managed to drop off to sleep.

****

He awoke only a few hours later to the sun streaming through his bedroom window, and the sound of birds chirping outside. From the sound of noises coming from the kitchen, he figured that Clint, Sam, Scott, and Wanda were all up and moving around. His clock said 8:30 AM, which was unusual for him. He was normally up at 4 AM for a jog on one of the treadmills down below, but seeing as how that was about the time he had finally gotten to sleep, he wasn't surprised. He made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then listened at Sharon's closed door. She was still asleep. So was Natasha, surprisingly, judging from the soft breathing coming from the other side of her door. He wondered if he should wake them both up for some breakfast, but decided against it, and headed downstairs.

Scott Lang was at the stove, appearing to make pancakes, while Wanda was pouring coffee. Sam and Clint were at the table discussing something, but everybody looked up when he walked in.

"Clint said Nat made it in last night?" asked Wanda.

"Yeah," confirmed Steve. "Her and Sharon Carter."

"She's the one who owns the house?" asked Wanda.

Steve nodded and filled them all in with any details that might have been missed about how Sharon had help them get their equipment back from the CIA and head to the airport with the purpose of flying to Siberia to stop the release of more winter soldiers. And then the fight happened.

"There's about ten different ways that could have gone down differently," said Natasha walking into the kitchen and heading straight from one of the cups of coffee.

"Thought you'd sleep in a little bit more" said Clint.

"I probably will after I grab some breakfast," said Natasha, gulping down one of the cups of coffee. She hadn't bothered to change out of the sleep clothes she was still wearing, and her normally well-coiffed hair still looked a little rumpled from sleep. It wasn't often that the legendary Black Widow was seen looking so normal or sleepy. Then it occurred to Steve that he had yet to see Sharon in the same state. And that he really wanted to.

"Is Sharon up too?" he asked.

"Not as of five minutes ago," said Nat. "Honestly, I expect her to sleep in a bit. She got less sleep than I did."

Steve nodded, grabbed a plate of pancakes and a mug of coffee, and want to sit at one end of the table, ignoring the pointed stares coming from both Natasha and Wanda. Knowing those two the way he did, he suspected that Natasha had already figured out his interest in Sharon, especially since she had once tried to set them up, and Wanda probably sensed it. He wanted to avoid any questions, at least right now, since he wasn't really sure himself with his answers would be.

Scott Lang was discussing returning to America and facing the music for his actions at the airport.

"You know you're going to be arrested a soon as you show your face, right?" said Clint.

Scott shrugged, "So what else is new? I don't regret coming. And I figured that was pretty much how it was going to go."

"What about your suit?" asked Sam. "Are you going to turn that over too?"

"Give me a little credit," said Scott looking shocked. "No way in hell I'm turning that over to the authorities. Hank would never forgive me. Hope would never speak to me again. Besides, it's a choices like this that make you understand how last-minute it might be that you might need it someday. No, I'll hide it. Just in case Cap ever calls again."

Steve looked up in surprise. "I'm surprised you never want to see me again given the trouble I got you into."

Scott laughed. "Nothing I didn't volunteer for."

"When would you leave?" asked Steve.

"As soon as possible," said Scott. "At least, as soon as possible that wouldn't give all of you away. I don't plan on giving up your location no matter what they do to me. The world needs you guys in it. Not locked up."

"We can probably get you back into the country fairly easily," said Clint. "It makes sense for you and me to go, I'll be going home soon too."

Natasha looked up but only nodded and said nothing.

Steve tried to ignore the growing heaviness around his heart. He knew that Clint and Scott should return home to their families, even if it meant facing consequences. He had been so overwhelmed with joy at seeing Sharon and Nat finally arrive, that he had not much thought forward to the fact that their refugee group would soon split up again, and this time probably permanently.

"Hey, you should probably think about maybe shaking Sharon awake," said Nat. "I'm planning on going back to sleep myself after this, but she could probably do with some breakfast."

"I'll get her," said Steve, getting up.

He left the kitchen and headed back upstairs, angling towards Sharon's door. He knocked softly, listened, and then gently pushed the door open and peeked around. The room was still slightly dim, even though the morning light was filtering in through the lace curtains. She was sprawled out on the bed, half under the sheet, and half out of it, lying on her stomach with her head turned to the side and her blonde hair spread out in all directions. She was snoring very softly, something that Steve actually found adorable. She appeared to be wearing cotton sleep pants and somewhat faded cotton tank top. Steve smiled. In all the times he had encountered her, she had always look fairly well put together, even after getting into a fight with Bucky. To see her so "natural" actually jolted him a little bit, and he had to admit that in pretty much every circumstance, she was beautiful. He was overcome with a certain urge to crawl into the bed next to her and pull her into his arms. He actually started to take a step forward, before he caught himself. What was he thinking? A hug and a kiss didn't necessarily equal relationship. Not after what he had put her through. There was a very real chance that if he were so forward as to crawl into bed with her, that she would either slug him or shoot him. He decided to settle for just calling out to her.

"Sharon?" he said softly. "Sharon?"

She didn't appear to have heard him, so he carefully moved to the side of the bed. He repeated her name, but she didn't budge. With a sigh, he carefully reached out and shook her shoulder. She jerked awake with lightning reflexes and the only thing that stopped him from ending up with a broken wrist was that his reflexes were faster. He pulled his hand back in time to avoid her knife hand chop, realizing that she was only maybe a third awake and didn't realize what she was doing. He stepped back fast as she sat up.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me. Steve."

She shook her head and came awake so fast he was actually impressed. He wondered to just what extent kind of training she had had. And then he realized, soberly, that aside from the abusive childhood, her training has probably not been too different from Nat's. He would do well to remember that this woman in front of him was every bit the agent that Natasha and Clint were.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and then focused on him.

"What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, regretting waking her up. "Only that there are apparently pancakes down in the kitchen and you should probably eat some breakfast. Nat had some already and is planning to go back to sleep. Sounds like a god plan for you too."

Sharon sort of half smiled, clearly weighing her options. Pancakes or back to her pillow? Pancakes won out, and she slowly stood up.

"You're probably right," she said with a yawn. Steve swallowed hard. God she was adorable.

"I'll uh, see you downstairs," he said.

He beat a hasty retreat out of her room and back downstairs. Sharon sighed and headed to the bathroom, not entirely sure why she was feeling disappointed. Her head felt slightly woozy from sleeping so deeply, which, being prone to insomnia, she had not done in quite a while. And given the nature of her circumstances actually surprised her that she could relax long enough to sleep that hard. Maybe it had something to do with knowing that Steve and so many others from the Avengers were in the house. The likelihood of something happening while she was asleep was very small. She washed her face but, intending to go back to bed, didn't bother changing out of her pajamas. She headed downstairs and found everyone in the kitchen, including Steve who was scrolling through his phone, apparently reading the news, given the scowl on his face.

Nat brushed past her with a quick side arm hug, announcing her intention to go back to bed. Her silent foot falls disappeared up the steps and the sound of her door closing was barely audible. Sharon stood in the doorway a little awkwardly, aware of the fact that even though this was her place, she was not exactly on friendly personal terms with most of the people here. She had always been cautious by nature anyway. But Clint apparently wasn't having any of her reticence.

"Hey Thirteen! Long time no punch. Glad to see you back among the land of the living," he said.

Sharon smiled despite herself. "Hawkeye. Shot anyone in the butt today?"

"Not yet," he said, "but the day is young." He handed her a plate of pancakes and some orange juice which she took and went to sit next to Steve at the table. She reached for the syrup and proceeded to saturate her entire pile of pancakes. Steve put his phone down and looked at her in mock horror.

"First you put five sugars in your coffee," he said, "then you drown your pancakes in syrup? You have a sugar imbalance we should know about?"

She gave him a teasing glare. "You drink your black coffee and eat your dry pancakes your way, Captain, and I'll do the same." She ignored Steve's snort as she tore into her breakfast with gusto. Apparently the three slices of pizza she had eaten only a few hours prior had worn off.

There were some small talk between Sam Wilson and Scott Lang about some points of a video game they were playing, but then Sharon fell curious eyes on her and she looked up to meet Wanda Maximoff's gaze. Younger woman quickly looked away, but Sharon gave her a smile. She was somewhat familiar with what Wanda had been through in the last two years, and could only imagine the current situation wasn't helping any. And Sharon had to admit, she was quite curious about the one they called Scarlet Witch. Before Wanda and her brother, most people had assumed that the telekinetic powers she demonstrated were only the stuff of movies. Sharon knew there were quite a few people who would love to know how Wanda did it and how they could harness it. There had even been whisperings in the CIA about turning her into their own lab project, which Sharon had immediately walked away from and thankfully Everett Ross had quelled any such discussion. She could understand why the Avengers were so protective of the kid.

She finished her food and went to put the dishes in the sink to wash when Steve stood up and came behind her. "I'll get it Sharon," he said softly. "You go back to sleep." She might have argued, but honestly, more sleep sounded awesome. She thanked him and waved to everyone else and headed up after Natasha to her room. Steve tried not to stare at her retreating back.

He missed Wanda's knowing smile.

*****

Natasha woke up around noon that day and stayed awake. She came down, dressed in leggings and a sweater, and sat with Wanda for hours talking about everything that had happened. Sharon woke up two hours later and also came down dressed pretty casual. Natasha waved her over to the window where she and Wanda were sitting, and Sharon pulled up a chair to sit next to them. Steve wanted desperately to sit alone with Sharon and talk to her for hours as they had done the day of Peggy's funeral, but recognized her need to get to know the other Avengers who were fugitives as well. He wasn't sure what tomorrow was going to bring, but it would certainly help if everybody was on the same friendly page. And the hours long chick fest seemed to be doing wonders for Wanda, for the younger woman had finally smiled and even laughed at something Sharon had said. By later that afternoon, they had all hauled out the knitting and crochet crafting materials and Sharon was showing Wanda how to do it properly. Which surprised Steve. He hadn't even known Sharon had such skills.

"My grandmother on my mom side showed me," she explained. "Showed me when I was eight but I didn't seriously take it up until I was in high school. It's great stress relief."

"That," said Nat, "and Sharon doesn't knit normal sweaters and scarves. I still have that green and black striped winter hat you made me that says 'fuck the cold' in Russian."

"And I still have that neon purple and black glove set you made me with the middle finger knitted neon green," said Clint from the sofa where he was engaged in a Call of Duty battle with Sam and Scott.

Sharon laughed as Steve looked at her with an amused raised eyebrow. She winked at him. "There's a lot you don't know about me," she said to him with her knowing smile.

Natasha snorted and Wanda coughed. Steve blushed and looked away but didn't bother to hide his smile.

That night, Steve had volunteered to try his hand at making dinner, a local dish called _hachee_ which was a sort of thick beef soup and bread with a lot of vegetables on the side. Sharon volunteered to help him, even if she was not much of a cook herself and her duties would include chopping ingredients and reading from the recipe he had printed out. It would take a couple of hours, so the talk he wanted to have with her they ended up having in the kitchen, voices pitched rather low so the others sitting in the living room watching something on TV could not easily overhear. Steve had been asking her how she knew where to find Natasha.

"The fact that this house exists tells you what Peggy often said to me privately about always having somewhere to run to," she was saying. "Spies and intelligence officers are tools to the governments that employ them. In an instant, if you become an embarrassment or a potential political nightmare, they can and will cut you loose. Although not much of a threat to Peggy by the time she bought this place, but, by the time she decided to have a family, she never doubted that at some point it would probably be needed by somebody. And when I entered SHIELD academy, she told me later in a conversation we made sure nobody could overhear, that even if SHIELD was the shining example of what we both hoped an intelligence agency should be, to never put your faith in anything that employs spies entirely. In addition to having somewhere to run to, she also told me to make sure I had a means of doing so. Just like women are told that if they are ever followed home to never go directly home but go to the police station, she told me to never go directly to the safe house. I should always have various waypoints along way where I could shake off anyone following me. Ljubljana was one of those way points. It was the one me and Bobbi and Nat agreed on as a meeting place should we ever need to meet up."

He shook his head. "I'm trying to imagine a mentality where are you even have to think that on a regular basis."

She shrugged. "It comes with the territory. I guess you get used to it."

She told him, as they chopped vegetables for the stew, about what had transpired after they had parted ways under the bridge. Knowing that she would only have a few hours head start and that was under the best circumstances, she had already brought everything she would need with her from her apartment when she had dropped the gear off. She did not go back. Instead, she had driven around 50 km east outside of city where she had stashed a unique form of getaway vehicle, a powered paraglider rig. She had hidden it in a barn and, with her bag firmly strapped to her chest, had jumped into the wind and powerglided another 70 miles to and over the German border. She had ditched the contraption in a ravine, hitchhiked to where she had stashed another vehicle, and this time, having swapped out her usual appearance for a black wig and outfit that added some bulk to her frame, had driven across Poland, south through Czechia, then Austria, and finally into Slovenia. She had played the part of the German tourist, presenting a forged German passport at the borders, had even taken pictures of herself at specific landmarks to show the customs officials, and then head finally arrived in Ljubljana. She had holed up in a hostel in the city, waiting for a sign from Natasha that she was even there. They had agreed on a sign, which involved tying a yellow ribbon to the rail of a particular bridge, which meant to meet at a small tea house in the older section of the town that had been there since before the Iron Curtain fell. Sharon had spent every afternoon sense arriving at the tea house, ordering the same tea with a few slices of bread spread with soft cheese, reading and pretending to take notes on what she was reading, giving the appearance of a foreign student studying the history of the ancient city. On the second week, when she had resolved to leave the next day, a woman wearing nondescript gray clothing who had recently died her hair blonde sat across from her and ordered the same tea she was drinking. She had looked up to find Natasha Romanoff's almost unrecognizable form sitting across the table from her with sardonic, yet almost relieved smile.

The two women just stared at each other with understanding smile's for a few moments before Natasha had said 'So, where are we going?"

Sharon had replied in Russian that it was going to be a long walk, which was code for _let's not discuss it here._ They had gone back to the hostel, got what sleep they could, and early the next morning before the sun was up, while the fog still held over the river, they had slipped away in a 20 year old clunker car, heading through the Balkan countries north towards Russia, then hooking across towards Poland and the north of Germany towards Amsterdam. They had been forced to ditch the car in Poland, and hitch a ride on a cattle train heading west. Due to the nature of them having to hide from rail authorities under bales of hay and in boxes they had pried open, it had meant very little rest, almost nothing to eat, and their water had run out the day before they reached Amsterdam. They had jumped off the train when it had slowed down to approach the city of Arnhem, and they had found a farm with a hose pipe where they had refilled their water bottles and quench their thirst. They had rested in the barn that day, and then moved at night, walking towards Amsterdam which had taken two days. Then they had finally arrived the previous night.

"I'll tell you," she said, "I never knew if I would ever need this place, but last night when we came dragging in here, it was probably about the most welcome sight I'd ever seen. And then I was so relieved to find all of you had made it here OK. I wasn't sure if my giving you the location would have somehow alerted someone to where I was heading. I half expected a CIA to strike team to be on the other side of the door."

"I kind of thought the same the night we arrived," Steve admitted.

"I guess Clint and Scott will be leaving soon?" she asked. "It's getting onto fall now, and if they have any chance of being able to return to the families for the holidays, this is probably the time to do it."

Steve nodded. "They want to leave by the end of the week."

Sharon only nodded, but said nothing. She reached over and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He returned the squeeze gently, giving her a grateful smile. He knew she understood, even if she didn't say anything.

When the stew was ready, everyone dug into it gratefully. Steve had to admit, it didn't come out half bad, although if Hunter were there, he would probably be comparing it to some similar British concoction like shepherd's pie or something. They kept the topic carefully to neutral subjects, like the weather, sports teams playing in America, and other Dutch cuisine they might want to try to make. Clint and Scott cleaned up the kitchen while they retreated to watch television. The evening passed companionably, with the women going back to crocheting funky hats, the men discussing the house's weapon and security systems, and making plans for a morning workout the next day.

When everybody started heading up stairs for showers and bed, Steve lagged behind, sitting with his thoughts, looking out the window, wondering where he should lead his directionless team. Or if they even wanted to follow him anymore. Finally, around midnight, he headed up to his own room, noting that everyone on the third floor, even Clint, appeared to be asleep, as was Natasha too, although she seemed to have mostly recovered from her journey, was clearly still tired. His ears picked up the sounds from Sharon's room behind her closed door. She was in bed, but tossing and turning. She wasn't asleep yet. He wondered if he should go talk to her, but then decided against it, since they had talked a lot while making supper and she needed sleep too. He showered and got ready for bed, returning to his own room. But he also tossed and turned on his own bed, restless and unable to get comfortable. It seemed that Sharon was doing the same, from the sound of the creaks of her bed on the other side of the wall. Finally, the soft sounds stopped and she seemed to have fallen asleep. With a shaky sigh, Steve allowed his own eyes to close.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **In this chapter, Steve and Sharon visit the van Gogh museum, and those familiar with the artist know there is going to be a discussion of depression, suicide, PTSD and syphilis. If these are triggering things for you, you might want to skip ahead.**

Bobbi and Hunter returned later that week, saying very little about whatever mission they had been on, other than it had been a partial success and a partial failure. Steve couldn't help but notice how Sharon, Natasha, and Clint had only just nodded and said nothing in response. Spies, he sighed. He wondered if he would ever get used to them. Sharon was quite thrilled to see Bobbi and Hunter, and greeted them both enthusiastically. Bobbi didn't seem to have much interest in learning to knit or crochet, but she joined the other women in the corner of the living room for lively discussions that went on for hours. At least it seem to be doing Wanda good. She was actually coming out of her shell a bit, although an air of melancholy still hung over her.

The days at the Amsterdam house had fallen into a sort of pattern. Everyone would wake up, take turns making breakfast, clean the kitchen and then go about whatever activities they had planned for themselves that day. That mostly involved working out all morning for everyone, for they were all in prime physical condition and their lack of current employment did not mean they had no desire to keep their skills up. There were plenty of opportunities for sparring and working out jointly, and Steve finally got to witness the level of Sharon's skills when she matched up against Natasha or Bobbi in the ring. They started teaching Wanda some of what they knew, and Wanda seemed to enjoy learning physical self-defense. In the afternoons, they usually allowed some time for hobbies, which involved playing video games for Sam and Scott and occasionally Clint, but Steve was missing anything to do until Sharon had asked him if he was still working on any artwork. The truth was, Steve hadn't thought about art in a long time, but after Sharon mentioned it, he found some pencils and sheets of paper and started making rudimentary sketches of the views from the windows of the house. Evenings are usually spent sharing cooking duties and talking, watching TV, or some other activity. They manage to stay busy, but the truth was they were all getting cabin fever. Steve hoped it would be soon when they were able to wander outside of the house and maybe at least tour the city. He had never been to Amsterdam before, and it was a city ripe with history, especially art history.

They were all still hesitant about stepping out the door of the house, however, given that their names and faces were still plastered all over every international news organization, most of them warning that they were super powered people who had gone rogue and should be considered armed and dangerous and avoided at all cost. This smudge on the image of Captain America bothered Steve, they all knew, even though he didn't say much about it. The sheer lies and speculation being thrown around by unqualified analysts who simply needed to talk to fill air time was extremely infuriating, given that they had no means of defending themselves in the eyes of the public. Steve had taken to drawing political cartoons, depicting their side of the story, which Scott had mentioned in passing he should think about putting up on the Internet anonymously and running web comic. Steve had seemed interested, the had put it on a mental back burner for later.

By the end of that week, Clint and Scott could not be put off any longer returning to their families. Natasha offered to take them so she could at least visit with Laura and the kids, but Clint advised against it. Her status as an American citizen was still in question, and if she were caught, her consequences might not include the right to a lawyer or a speedy trial. The same went for Wanda. In the end, Hunter offered to take them in the cloaked car, since neither he nor Bobbi were wanted fugitives, and no one would be looking for him. Steve had agreed, and that decided, their final night altogether, they had cooked a large meal with enough desserts to feed an army, and had spent the evening in a somewhat jocular mood, even though the undercurrent of sadness still lingered in the air, knowing that they would be leaving the next day.

The next morning, everyone said their goodbyes, and Hunter lead Clint and Scott down to the motor pool. They all gathered in the garage and waved as the car departed, heading for the North Sea, where they would cloak and fly across Scandinavia, Greenland, Iceland, and then come down through Canada to Clint's farm. Hunter with then drop off Scott in San Francisco, and then return. Given that the flying car was not an intercontinental jet, it would take several days, probably a week before he would return. Bobbi was nervous, especially since he would be by himself for the return trip, but it was really the best solution.

Steve gave each of them one of the kimoyo beads that Shuri had given them before they left Wakanda. He demonstrated how to use it, and advised them to keep it where the authorities would not be able to find it.

"If you ever need to call..." he had said. The other two men had simply nodded, and he had given them both hugs. He knew Clint would not call unless it was an emergency. He hoped the same would be true of Scott. Another area that gave Steve a lot of cause for overthinking was Sharon. She still flirted with him on occasion, but aside from the day they had spent together the day of Peggy's funeral, and the kiss under the bridge, she was not giving much indication that she was any more than just interested in him. He would occasionally catch her looking at him, as she would occasionally catch him looking at her, which resulted in both of them looking away quickly, pretending it hadn't happened. But Steve honestly did not know what to do. He had very little experience in this area, even his experiences with Peggy were extremely limited, given that they really had not spent nearly as much time together as he had already spent with Sharon, and it had been during a war.

He wasn't sure what there was between them, he only knew that it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back from simply pulling her to him and kissing her senseless. Only the knowledge that she had not given him any kind of sign that she even wanted him to do that, even the kiss under the bridge had been one that he initiated, not her, was what held him back. Still, he wanted to be near her, constantly, even if it meant just being in the same room listening to her from across the way. He loved the sound of her voice, especially her laugh, and he especially liked it when it was her turn in the kitchen and she didn't think anyone was nearby. She often hummed to herself, and she had a sweet voice. The sound caused a warm feeling to surround his heart, when lately it has been strained and cold. But he knew the absolute worst thing he could do was rush her. She had to be reeling from the loss of Peggy, since she really had not had much of a chance to mourn. She had just lost her job because of him. Again. And the entire world she had built for herself because of him. Again. And while she did not seem angry at him about it, that certainly did not mean that she was returning any romantic thoughts that he might have.

On top of all that, he knew that Peggy would be a major elephant in the room for the both of them. He had to admit, the thought of dating Peggy's great niece, if it ever came to that, was a little strange. But he had no idea what it would mean for her. She didn't seem completely turned off by the thought, but he knew that at some point they were going to have to have a very deep, very private conversation about anything that did or might exist between them. And he felt himself getting impatient. The nights were the worst. Not that his bed was uncomfortable, nor the room, but he would often toss and turn for several hours, listening to Sharon do the same on the other side of the hall. He almost envied the others, including Natasha, and their ability to seemingly just drop right off to sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. He knew his own reason for restlessness was due to the stress of the situation, but his growing frustration over Sharon. But he wondered, what was her reason for sleeplessness? He didn't dare to think that she might be feeling the same way, that she tossed and turned in her own bed thinking about him. Did she?

After they had been cooped up in the house for a little over a month, Sharon suggested that it was probably finally time for them to venture out and test how well all their disguises would work. Given that they were living in a safe house meant for spies, there was no shortage of stuff to disguise themselves with. Nat had already dyed her hair blonde, which had taken a little getting used to. But Wanda preferred to twist her hair up on top of her head and try out the variety of wigs that Sharon showed her. Sharon also enjoy trying to disguise herself to be as unrecognizable as possible, her favorite being a goth-ish look with a straight black hair wig and a variety of black and white clothes that hid her figure and a mountain of makeup.

Although it was ultimately a serious matter, it seemed as if the women enjoyed doing themselves and each other up in various disguises, and Bobbi began encouraging them all to consider stepping out of the house and going for walks to see how many stares they got or how likely they would be recognized. Nat and Wanda usually went for a stroll together, and Sharon and Bobbi would sometimes walk down to the park and back. Sam seems less interested a donning a disguise and heading out into the world, but he had struck up a friendship with Hunter who shared his love of video games, and the two often went a few streets over to a local game store to watch tournaments being played. Steve also went out, usually wrapped in a bulky coat with an oversized ugly hat and scarf wrapped around his face to keep from being recognized. He had decided to stop shaving and start growing a beard, figuring that he would be less likely to be recognized as such.

But it was actually Sharon who suggested that everyone consider spending Saturday out to combat cabin fever. They would all spend the day out in the city in various small groups doing something each of them wanted to do, and meet for dinner at a restaurant that was out-of-the-way and not very crowded later on. The knitters were out of yarn, so Bobbi, Natasha, and Wanda opted to head for a large crafting store on the other side of town. Hunter and Sam would go to a local park where a pick up soccer tournament was scheduled to be played. Steve had figured he would find some way to just take a walk and then return to the house, until Sharon suggested that the two of them visit the van Gogh Museum. Steve immediately perked up.

"You were an art student, weren't you?" Sharon asked him one afternoon as they were down in the workout area lifting weights.

"Before the war, yes. It was about the only thing that was really good at. If you hadn't been to business school, the only jobs that were really available in Brooklyn at the time were manual labor jobs, and I just lacked the physical strength and stamina to do most of what was hiring. I had a job as a kid though, working at the corner grocery store. Mostly just manning the register because I was good at it. Something I doubt I would be allowed to do today at 12 years old. I was a skinny asthmatic kid with a host of medical problems, but I could add pretty well. And there wasn't a lot of physical strength needed to work the cash machine."

"And you were honest to a fault, I imagine," said Sharon with a smile. "I guess that grocery store owner didn't have to worry about any bills going missing."

"Nope. And it was the Depression, so money was in short supply. Honestly, Mr. Carver, the owner, did a lot of bartering. If he needed something painted, he would trade groceries for the paint and labor. He didn't actually pay me money, either. He paid me in groceries. Given how tight everything was, and my mother didn't make much working at the hospital, sometimes that was the only way we had food on the table."

"I'm sorry," said Sharon quietly.

Steve shrugged. "We were no better or worse off than anyone else in the neighborhood. Bucky's father shuffled coal most of our lives, so sometimes I would trade him a couple of apples for some coal to heat up our apartment. That's how it was back then. Anyway, I didn't have much talent for shoveling coal, and the older I got, the harder it was to justify keeping me on at the grocery store without having me do some actual labor. But I had always like to draw. Then one day, Mr. Carver caught me drawing pictures of the interior of the store on some old beef wrapping paper. He was so impressed, that he asked me to draw a picture of his wife and family. He couldn't afford to have their portrait taken."

"And did you?" asked Sharon.

"Of course. And it came out pretty good if I do say so myself," he said with a smile. "He paid me in groceries, but that got me thinking that I might be able to do art for money. So I started saving my drawings, and presenting them to various places that might be willing to buy them. I actually got an occasional gig with the local newspaper drawling political cartoons. Or illustrating current events, since paying a photographer was kind of iffy even for a small newspaper. That was the first time I ever actually made any real money from it. And by real I mean a nickel or drawling. Then someone at the art school saw my work in the newspaper, and offered me a place in the starting classes."

"How did you afford it?" asked Sharon.

"Working a news stand," said Steve with a grimace. "Basically I was a glorified newsboy. I sold my drawings, tutored the director's kids. I managed to squeak by. I feel pretty guilty about it, because I knew we could use that money at home. But mom encouraged me. Especially once someone told her that artist could actually make money drawing cartoons for the newspaper. And by the time I was also illustrating the local church bulletins. So many of the old ladies at church were praising my work. Mom let it go. And I guess she figured if the art didn't work out, I could always be a news stand operator."

"Definitely a different era," said Sharon shaking her head.

"Oh I don't know," said Steve. "Some things are still the same. For example, you have kids pedaling stories and ideas on YouTube now instead of on the street corner. Only they're making a damn sight more money than any of us ever made selling newspapers."

Sharon laughed. "That's certainly true. Those kids make more money playing Minecraft then I do defending the United States of America against Russian spies."

"So how did you know I like van Gogh?" asked Steve."Was that part of your study of me?"

Sharon shrugged. "Actually I didn't. I had no idea if you would like van Gogh. But he's from the Netherlands, and the museum is here, and it seems like anyone who is interested in art would want to see his works in person. Was that wrong?"

"Not at all," said Steve. "I've always like van Gogh. He was certainly a fascinating character in history. And his works were so different for that era. It was the beginning of impressionism in the art world. I took a class on at when I was at art school."

"I studied him a bit when I was in college," said Sharon. "But from a psychological aspect. He was a walking text book of the various ways the human mind can break."

"Manic depressive, wasn't he?" asked Steve, putting his weights back on the rack.

"Honestly, they don't really know," said Sharon, putting her own weights back. "Bipolar disorder was certainly the most logical explanation. He could have also been schizophrenic, I believe one of his sisters was diagnosed later in life. And his brother Theo was known to be melancholy, which is an archaic way of saying 'depression.' An instructor of my psychology class actually thought he had some form of epilepsy. Only it wasn't the kind where you have seizures. I forget exactly what it's called, frontal or temporal lobe epilepsy I think, but it affects certain areas of the brain and change his personality, sometimes for weeks on end."

"Do you think that's what it was?" Asked Steve, taking a gulp from his water bottle.

"No, I think he had untreated syphilis," said Sharon.

Steve grabbed his towel over his mouth to avoid splitting his water in midair. "You think he had what?"

"Well, he certainly also probably had clinical depression like his brother," said Sharon. "One of the reasons I was assigned to you was that I have a certain expertise in spotting the symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder and various levels of depression. Van Gogh probably had an early form of depression throughout most of his life, but he didn't start acting truly mad until after he started living with a prostitute and her two children, and she was known to have syphilis. Unless that living arrangement was a celibate one, which I doubt, he probably contracted it from her. In fact I know he did. He was admitted to a hospital and treated for the clap. He said so himself in a letter to his brother. Back then, they treated it with mercury. As in the stuff that drove hatters mad. And he was also known to drink absinthe, which, back then, was usually mixed with stuff like paint thinners that could drive you batty."

"Yeah they skipped over that part in our history," said Steve with a smile. "My classes tended to focus on his work."

"Well he was certainly the cliché struggling artist," said Sharon. "But back then, they treated everything with mercury and arsenic. They knew that mercury could poison you, but I don't think they knew the truly devastating effects that it could have on the brain at that point. Couple that with the madness that can come from syphilis, add mercury poisoning, along with a healthy dose of genetic depression, and it's a miracle he lasted as long as he did. I don't know that I would've lasted that long under those conditions without taking a gun to myself. Not to make light of such things, mind you. Anyone of those conditions on their own is certainly no joke. And fatal to a lot of people. Even in the modern times with modern treatment."

"Back in my day, they were only just starting to treat that stuff with penicillin. But in my parents' generation, it was basically a death sentence. And even today, I noticed that people still have a lot of shame around that."

"They do," said Sharon. "And that's never a fun conversation to have with your parents."

"My mom just shoved a nursing textbook in front of me, told me to read chapter 5, and then later asked if I had any questions," said Steve.

Sharon laughed. "Knowing what I do about the time, I'm surprise she did even that. But I guess medical professionals have a different outlook on such things."

"Most of the education that me and Bucky had came from the older boys in our schools. That and the few times we were brave enough to sneak into the adult only theater. Which I deny any participation in, though Bucky would brag about it."

Sharon gave Steve a sideways glance that let him know she hadn't believed his denial of participation, but he was relieved to see that she didn't seem to be judgmental about it. His mother would've had three different kinds of fits if she had ever known.

"My mom hauled me to a three hour seminar at the local hospital for mothers and daughters," said Sharon. "Like you though, I had already learned the basics from the older girls in my class. And various biology courses in school."

"Which is more than the girls of my time got," said Steve's quietly. Sharon just nodded in agreement.

That Saturday morning, Steve awoke actually feeling a certain sense of anticipation. It was the first time he could recall looking forward to something since all of this mess had started. Losing Peggy, losing the Avengers, and then finding himself an international fugitive, all while trying to help Bucky, had taken a toll on him, and he wondered if he even remembered how to enjoy normal, non-bad guy bashing related activities. Going to the museum with Sharon was something he had never even thought about, but now found himself looking forward to up to the point to where even is tossing and turning the night before had not bothered him. Naturally he was anxious about everybody going out, but nobody was going to be on their own, and Sharon was probably right, cooping themselves up in the house afraid to go out was not going to do any of them any good psychologically. He noticed at breakfast that everyone seem to be in something of a jocular mood. Even Wanda joked and laughed with the others.

When it came time to leave, the spies evaluated everyone to make sure they were as well as unrecognizable as possible. Then, they all piled into the two cars, with Steve and Sharon taking the sedan, and everyone else piling into the SUV. The girls would drop Hunter and Sam off at the park for the soccer game, and then head to the craft store across town. Steve and Sharon would had to the art museum.

"Everyone keep your communicators handy," said Steve. "If you start getting any kind of funny looks, beat a hasty retreat. No exceptions. And if you get into trouble, head to one of the rendezvous points that Bobbi mentioned around the city. Stay low until we can come get you for an extraction."

"We got it, Cap," said Sam. "We'll all be fine."

"Let's roll then," said Steve. And they all headed in their separate directions.

Because Sharon had actually visited the city several times before and Steve had never been, he graciously conceded to letting her drive. They meandered their way through the streets of Amsterdam, taking around about way so that they could look at some of the sights of the city. Steve had to admit, the architecture of the Dutch modern blended with historical was quite beautiful. They passed by parks and cafés, neighborhoods and historical monuments. Steve found his mind shifting slightly, examining the angles of the buildings and the shadows of the sun light in the trees. He began sorting ideas in his mind on how it would be like to sketch some of the scenes, and for the first time in a long time, his mind started turning back towards his artwork. His creative outlet had been stifled for far too long in the interest of being a soldier. But the artist part of him that had been there long before he was ever Captain America, lying dormant, occasionally reared its head.

Sharon was silent as they drove, preferring to let him be alone with his thoughts. She had her own to think about. Her mind shifted from topic to topic, giving each one approximately five minutes of undivided attention before moving onto the next. Her aunt Peggy's death. The apologetic email she had sent to her various family members in the voicemail she had left for her mother letting them know that she had to go underground for a while and not to panic if they didn't hear from her. Her resignation letter explaining everything she had done that she had dropped in the mail to Everett Ross, annoying as he was, who had been one of the few friends she could count at the CIA, who had been willing to give an ex SHIELD agent a chance when others were reluctant. The explanation letter she had left for her landlord in Berlin explaining that he could sell everything in her apartment to cover her last month's rent. Sneaking the location of the safe house to Steve and finding Natasha. The wild trek back-and-forth across Europe. But once she had devoted enough time in her mind to logically processing these things, her thoughts then turned to the man beside her.

She had no idea what to think of him.

When she had been assigned to watch him, she had drawn on everything her aunt had ever told her about him, everything that had ever been written about him, along with personal observation. She was professional, she knew the cost of getting emotionally involved with your target. And for the most part, she has been able to avoid doing that while on assignment. I mean, sure she had a little crush on him, and who wouldn't? He was gorgeous, endearing, and an all-around honest and genuinely nice guy. A woman would have to be made of stone or ranking somewhere else on the Kinsey scale to not feel a jolt being around him. He had that force of personality, when he wasn't using it to be a leader, he was using it to be the kind of guy you wanted to bring home to meet your mother. He was the kind of guy who helped old ladies upstairs, carried groceries for the harried mother with two kids under each arm, and fed your fish for you while you were on vacation. She had personally seen him do all three of these things. When she had seen a shy little three-year-old boy approach him outside of their building and ask for an autograph, she had seen Steve grin, drop to one knee so he was eye level with the boy and have a conversation with him about who was stronger, him, Thor, or Hulk. By the end of the exchange, the little boy was laughing, had three different things with Steve's signature on it, and several fist bumps to send him on his way. Sharon had actually felt her ovaries twist at that one.

She had been told that he was somewhat socially awkward, so she was rather surprised at his endearing offer to grab coffee sometime, along with the gracious way that he had accepted when she had turned him down. Most guys who asked for her number or try to hit on her usually turned dark and rude when she indicated that she was not interested. She had been called all manner of names, heading toward sideways insults, or even the somewhat dismissive 'whatever' from a disappointed male who had been at unable to win her over. If any of them had bothered to ask, she could have truthfully said that she didn't have time to date or get in a relationship since she never knew on any given day when she was going to be expected to fly to Indonesia and take down a terrorist cell. The one time she did tell that to a guy, he had left thinking she was joking. And then his horrified expression when he realized she was telling the truth told her all that she needed to know about dating civilians. They would never be able to deal. Even her own uncle Dan, Peggy's husband, had been in the life himself prior to the founding of SHIELD. It was how he and Peggy had met. It took a certain kind of person to put up with an agent of SHIELD. Steve would look for a long time before he would find a woman who could deal with what he was. And Sharon knew that she would maybe never find a man who would be able to deal with what she was. Her two relationships previous to becoming a full SHIELD agent has not exactly been disasters but had been far from successful. One guy had been a civilian who had tried to talk her out of her career because it was too dangerous. The second had been SHIELD himself, but had been an analyst who was not familiar with what field agents usually went through, and had not been able to deal with her strength of personality. She had not regretted seeing the back of either of them.

But when Steve had asked her out, not knowing who she was, it had been everything she could do to avoid saying yes. She had really wanted to say yes. But she had forced herself to turn him down gently. At the time, he didn't even know her real name. It would be unfair to go on a date with him under false pretenses. Some agents didn't mind using such tactics to get close to their marks, but even if she had it in her to do such things, she couldn't do that to him. Not to Steve Rogers. But she could see what had endeared him to her aunt so much. When he wasn't in Captain America mode, he was like a big cuddly teddy bear or a happy golden retriever. Actually he was like a golden retriever who had recently lost his beloved owner; it was still happy to see you, but with an undercurrent of sadness. That was something about him that made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him. When he had kissed her under the bridge back in Berlin, she had felt a jolt go right down her spine. It had caught her by surprise. No other man had ever done that to her before. And that was just a kiss.

Now, here they were, both of them fugitives, and both of them stuck at the same safe house without much direction for the future. She knew he was up most nights staring at the ceiling, letting the wheels turn in his mind, undoubtedly blaming himself for all of their situations. More than anything, she wanted to take that away from him, let him relax if only for a few minutes. She knew how she wanted to do that too, but she was pretty sure that wasn't in the immediate future. She felt comfortable now saying they were at least friends, but more? She doubted either of them were sure about anything more at this point. The only optimistic point in all of this was that they now apparently had a lot of time on their hands, and which they were going to be in close proximity to each other, to see about working that out.

She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed the turn into the van Gogh Museum, and hoped she didn't startle Steve too much when she jammed on the brakes and yanked the car up into the parking lot.

"Sorry about that," she said sheepishly. "Not entirely sure of where I was."

"As long is we didn't sideswipe anyone, I think we're good," he said with a smile.

They parked and got out, doing a double check on their disguises, making sure that they would not be easily recognized. Then, they headed into the museum. They grabbed a couple of audio devices that would allow them to self-tour the museum, and made their way inside. Sharon had never really thought much about van Gogh as an artist, she had only studied him from the psychological side for her psych classes. In fact, his paintings had always struck her is being a little weird. But as she held the listening device up to her ear and listen to the narrator discuss the various points of the tormented artist's life, she had to admit that what he had created out of that psychological distress, weird though it was, was beautiful. But what she really enjoyed was watching Steve's expression as he held the listening device up to his own ear and stood for as much as 15 to 20 minutes in front of a single painting, hearing the story behind it and listening to the points of interest on each.

When they came to the reproduction of 'The Starry Night', for the original was in a museum in New York, the audio device gave the option of playing the song written by Don McLean. Steve had never heard it, so they both listened to it, and Sharon noticed a slight shine in Steve's eyes that might have been unshed tears. She couldn't blame him, this song was enough to make anyone cry, along with the circumstances under which that painting has been made.

"You know," she said to him, "before I knew the story behind this painting, it was one of my favorites, and I'm not a big fan of van Gogh."

He turned to look at her and gave her a raised eyebrow that indicated he would like her to continue.

"Aside from the fact that it's apparently the most recognized painting in the world, seriously if you walk into a Starbucks you can probably find a coffee mug with this painting on it, but it was always so trippy to look at. I've had insomnia since I was a teenager, and this picture always kind of reminded me to not be so hard on myself about not being able to sleep due to stress. The way he painted things at night, this one, that painting that was done by a river at night, and that one over there that's a café at night , they kind of remind me that those of us who are awake at night see a certain beautiful aspect of the world than a lot of people don't. Some places at night can be very pretty."

"That's definitely true," he agreed. "I did some sketches of places when I was in art school, but it wasn't really my thing. I tend to prefer to sketch people, though I did a few sketches of Stark tower. Before it got all torn up I mean."

Sharon smiled and nodded, and then guided him over toward the end of the exhibit. As with most institutions geared towards tourists, they were required to exit the building by going through the gift shop. And like any other tourists, they made several side detours before heading towards the exit. By the time they made it out of the building, Sharon walked out with a few prints to hang on the wall of her room back of the house, and Steve walked out with a calendar of some of van Gogh's more famous paintings. They still had some time to spare before meeting the others for dinner, so they drove to a nearby park where they could walk along one of the canals, but decided against a boat ride. Still being the agents they were, they did not want to be caught on a watercraft only to be recognized and unable to get away easily. They walked along some residential streets, admiring the fall decorations that some of the houses were sporting, and picked up a hand out at a new stand that hold of upcoming festivals and events that would be held in the area.

As they started back for the car, Steve took Sharon's hand. She hesitated for a second, and then squeezed his fingers.

"There was some concern wasn't there? About me I mean. Someone was afraid I would do myself in. Was it Fury?" he asked quietly.

If Sharon was surprised at his sudden insight, no doubt brought on by the visit to the van Gogh Museum, she didn't show it. She just looked at him, and then looked away.

"Yes," she said softly.

"I wouldn't have, you know," he said, trying to keep a slight edge of bitterness out of his voice. "But if you have the psychology degree, I guess that's why they wanted you next-door to me."

"There were a lot of reasons Fury choose me," said Sharon. "None the least of which was our shared background, since I already knew more about you than Phil Colson. And that's saying something."

Steve actually smiled at that.

"But you also have to understand," she said continuing, "at the time you were coming up, almost nobody knew anything about PTSD. If you fought in a war, you were sent right home like nothing happened, and you were expected to go back to your life like you have never been away witnessing some of the most horrific things human beings can do to each other. Even during your time, you probably would have known some soldiers from WW1 who came home but were never quite right after that. Men who never touched a drop of liquor before the war now couldn't get through the day without some strong whiskey. Mild mannered men who were known to be gentle and kind came home and beat their wives and children for no apparent reason. Big burly factory workers came home and would have nightmares where they would scream like they were being murdered. And more than one decided to end it all about jumping off the nearest bridge. You never heard of cases like these?"

"No, I did," he admitted. "Back then they called it 'battle fatigue.' That was a guy on another floor of my building who had nightmares so bad the entire hallway would hear him screaming."

"It wasn't much better by WWII," she said. "Battle fatigue, shellshock, at that point people knew it was a real problem, but it was still a taboo topic. Something shameful. Even today, people still think that it is only something that affects weak-willed people or cowards. We know now that isn't true, but the stigma still there. When you first woke up, we had to consider that, to you, WWII would've happened yesterday. Concentration camps happened last week. And Nazis were waiting to ambush you around every corner. We had no idea what kind of condition you would be in mentally when you woke up."

"Hence the fake hospital charade," said Steve. "Yes, Natasha explained that one to me. But I've been examined since then, and Sam agrees, I don't seem to show signs of posttraumatic stress disorder. The only one of us who really showed signs of anything like it was Tony after the battle of New York."

"For which he is finally getting some sort of counseling, thanks to Pepper as I understand it," said Sharon. "But that was also the problem of you having been asleep for 70 years. We have absolutely no precedent for that. The closest we ever came was the occasional rare patient who might have been in a coma for a couple of years and woke up to find everything about his world and his family different, but not so different that society was unrecognizable. Even the guy who was in a coma for 10 years and woke up to find his wife had remarried, his parents have died, he no longer had a job or a house, and a whole host of other things needed extensive counseling to readjust. What exactly were we going to say to you after so many years? You went to sleep at a time when most people still only had radios in their houses, and you woke up in a time when you could hold a small computer in your hand and watch anything that has ever been digitized. The disorientation from that alone would cause a massive psychological shock. Couple that with the strain of losing everyone you ever cared about and the possible stress of war, and you have to admit it would have been irresponsible for us to just leave you to your own devices."

"Nat said that you took a demotion to watch me from across the hall. Is that true?"

"Sort of," she admitted. "I still get paid the same. But to go from field agent to watch dog is considered a backward step in SHIELD and most other intelligence communities. It's something that you usually get assigned with after You've pissed somebody off. I volunteered."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," she said turning to look him in the eye, "regardless of how things turned out, the Carters still consider you family, even if by association only. And frankly I didn't trust anyone else to do it. And I wanted to."

Steve's eyes met hers and they gazed at each other intently. Her eyes were a similar shade of blue to his, something similar to a clear sky on a spring day. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and he was reminded of that time when they stood in front of the elevator and she had stared intently at him then. If they had not both just comes from Peggy's funeral, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't have followed her up to her room and found out exactly what that look meant. It was the same look she was giving him now, one that was clearly filled with anticipation, but was waiting for him to make the first move. And that was something he had never been good at. Even with Peggy, learning to talk to a woman and operate romantically have been like navigating a minefield. And Peggy had been very understanding. He suspected Sharon would be too, but that didn't mean he was eager to make an ass of himself by saying or doing the wrong thing.

What he wanted to do was kiss her senseless. And judging from the way her eyes widened slightly, he suspected that not only did she sense what he wanted, but that she was on board with it herself. Did she really want him as much as he wanted her?

"Sharon…" he whispered.

"Steve…" she whispered back and then angled her head slightly. It was all he needed.

He tipped his head down to her and caught her lips with his own. She was tentative at first, and then relaxed and seem to melt into him with a sigh that was almost one of relief. His arms came up and wrapped around her, pulling her close, and he felt her arms encircle him. He deepened the kiss and he felt her whimper slightly, which almost made him lose complete control right there in the park. Their first kiss under the bridge had been tentative and exploratory, with a hint of passion behind it, but it was abbreviated due to the lack of time and the fact that they had the audience of two men sitting in a car not far away looking on, and smiling. It had caused them to cut the whole process short, and had still left them both unfulfilled and with a lot of questions about the other. Up until that point, Steve had not been entirely sure if Sharon had returned his feelings, but after that he had been reasonably assured that she did. That did not mean, however, that she was ready to pursue a relationship with him. Up until this point when she had finally shown up at the safe house, and had come with him on this excursion, he had not been sure if she was keeping him at arm's length for his sake or hers. But now as they stood in the park engaging in a kiss that was almost qualified as sex itself, he had no further doubt that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But how to proceed from here? He had no idea.

For her part, Sharon quickly felt her mind spinning out of control. She wasn't the sort of person who allowed herself to fall head over heels senseless over a man, but so help her, that seemed to be what was happening right now. The longer he continued to kiss her, the harder she was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. This kiss wasn't at all like the first one. It was more urgent, more demanding and urgent, and although he started off tentatively, it was clear that he had found some reservoir of bravery, because now his hands were pulling her closer to him, and gently exploring her back. She felt his breathing speed up, and her own breathing sped up to match his.

She should stop him, she thought to herself. To begin with, they were in public and if they got any more aggressive with each other, there was a very real possibility that the authorities would be called by one of the parents with their kids also in the park. Also, they could be recognized if they stayed out much longer. She also had to consider his level of inexperience. He had only been on a few dates that she knew about, an unofficial one with her, and his last serious emotional attachment to a woman had been to her own great-aunt nearly 80 years ago. As difficult as it was, for the only thing she wanted to do was lose herself in him, and let her own hands wander where they would, she knew that for the sake of their own protection, she had to be the voice of reason. With resignation, she gently broke the kiss and backed up.

"Steve, hold up," she said.

He immediately straightened up and released her, his eyes going slightly wide and cautious.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean, that is, if I'm going to fast, or shouldn't have at all."

"No no, it's OK," she assured him. "Really, you're good. But we're out in the open. Someone might see us or recognized us. We have to be careful. We're not in the clear yet."

She saw him visibly relax at her assurances that his actions were not unwelcomed, but then he sobered with realization and nodded in agreement.

"You're right. We should probably go. I wasn't thinking."

She put a hand on his arm and gave him what she hoped was a companionable smile. She took his hand and led him back to the car. The drive to meet up with the others after their day away from the house was mostly quiet. Steve was in a small amount of turmoil. He wanted badly to ask Sharon what she was thinking, if he had overstepped his bounds, and if they should continue where that left off when they got in to more private surroundings back at the house. But he was afraid that she might turn him down if he broached the subject. While he was certain that she reciprocated his feelings, he wasn't sure at what speed she was willing to explore them. She seemed not to have minded the fact that he had kissed her so much as she minded that they might be spotted. But had that meant that if they have been somewhere private that things would have progressed? It was difficult to gauge what she was thinking from her silence. Ever the spy, her demeanor gave nothing away. She was like Natasha in that way. That being the case, he knew that he would not get much information from her at this moment, not until she was ready to talk.

They made their way to the restaurant where they had agreed to meet the others. Steve was relieved to see the SUV already there and everyone else waiting around. He hoped it not been too long. They had picked out a restaurant that specialized in Scandinavian fare, given that the Scandinavian countries were not too far away. As they pulled up and got out of the car, Steve made a comment to Sharon about how, when he was growing up, spaghetti was considered exotic food, and now here he was about to eat Viking food. That got a smile and a laugh from her, which lifted his spirits. Maybe things didn't have to be so tense between them after all.

The others greeted them warmly, and they made their way inside the restaurant. Apparently this evening was smorgasbord night, with a buffet type setting that they could pick and choose from. Steve followed Sharon and Sam up to where the dishes were set out, and encountered a lot of familiar looking foods that were prepared in ways he was not entirely familiar with. There were open faced sandwiches of hard boiled eggs covered with cod roe caviar, some type of yellow pea soup called artsoppa, mashed potatoes, roast chicken, Swedish meatballs, pickled beets, fish, and bread.

Steve eyed the food warily, but smiled at Sharon's good-natured chuckle as she ladelled some of the fish and mashed potatoes on to her own plate. He followed suit and joined the others at the table where everyone recounted their day out. Apparently Sam had scored a couple of decent goals at the pickup soccer game in the park, impressing Hunter who had grown up playing soccer and had not scored one. Bobbi, Natasha, and Wanda talked about spending literally the entire day in the craft supply warehouse, wandering the aisles and picking up nearly every kind of crafting kit they could lay their hands on to keep busy. Steve was touched when Wanda mentioned that they had picked him up some drawing pads and sketching materials just in case he ever wanted to take up his artwork again. Then they had gone to a large book store and had stocked up on books to read, drawing a grateful smile from Sharon when they handed her a bag of books that Bobbi indicated where Sarah Castille's entire Redemption series.

"What's that series about?" asked Steve.

"Looks like MMA fightser," said Sharon. "MMA fighter romance?"

"I promise, you'll like it," said Nat, with a conspiratorial smirk to Bobbi.

"Romance series that puts 50 Shades to shame," said Bobbi.

"50 Shades sucked," said Sharon. "That was the most badly written piece of crap I've ever read. I was actually hoping both characters would fall off a bridge by the end of the series. Never mind the content, those were some of the most irritating characters I ever had the misfortune to read. In real life, those two would have been smacked hard a long time ago, they are so irritating."

"Tell us how you really feel," said Nat. "I promise, those will be more entertaining. Incidentally, there's also a fresh set of batteries in there too."

"Nat! Jesus..." said Sharon, giving her friend are halfway mock glare.

Steve turned and looked at Sharon, his eyebrows raised. He knew about the 50 Shades series, and was a little surprised to hear that she had read it. But now he was curious about the books in the bag. At first she refused to catch his eye but finally turn to look at him and gave him a conspiratorial flirty smile. Then she change the subject and started grilling Wanda about the books she had picked up. Steve, figuring he wasn't going to get any more clues, turned to Sam to ask him about participating in other games coming up.

That evening passed companionably, with all of them going back for thirds and fourths more than they should have, before everyone mutually but reluctantly agreed that it was time to go back to the house. The drive back was a little less tense between him and Sharon, as they talked about him resuming his artwork, and her coming up with something to do with herself.

"I suppose I should probably come up with a creative pastime," she agreed. "Art is good for soothing the soul, and the knitting and crocheting seems to be helping Wanda a bit. Maybe I'll take that back up. I could knit you some red white and blue mittens."

"Maybe I should take up more reading," he said with a smile. "Should I borrow your new books?"

"I don't know Steve," she said teasingly. "They might be too much for you to handle."

"I can handle whatever you can handle," he said, surprising himself at the tone in his voice. He wasn't used to talking to women in that tone, but her smile made it worth it. Apparently she wasn't offended. But then her look turned serious.

"All things considered though, we all probably do need to think about what we're going to do with ourselves in the future. We're all wanted fugitives, so that narrows the field a bit. Most of us have been trained for direct combat and intelligence gathering jobs. And Wanda is still young enough to want to consider what she wants to do with herself long-term. All of us know that we like helping people and disrupting the plans of evil miscreants. There might be a way we could all continue to do such things, like Bobbi and Hunter, but it something that would require a lot of consideration. We would be operating outside of the law. And people have varying opinions about vigilante justice. If any of us are considering trying to go legit, anything we do from this point on my hamper that."

"Unless something extreme happens, going legit probably would mean prison time for all of us," said Steve.

"Yes it would," she agreed. "Unless there's another alien invasion you manage to stop. And even then you probably end up on house arrest."

"Personally I hope there's never another alien invasion," said Steve.

Sharon agreed, as they pulled into the garage under the house alongside the SUV, and got out to help the others haul their purchases upstairs. Everyone disbursed to their respective rooms with their newly acquired items, and Steve spread out the art materials on the dining room table to inventory what he had to work with, shooting another thanks to the women over his shoulder for getting it for him. Sharon came through the kitchen caring the prints she had gotten at the van Gogh Museum.

"I'm taking these upstairs to hang in my room, then shower time for me. I'll probably catch some TV in my room and then bedtime. See you in the morning Steve," she said, leaving the room before he could suggest that they go somewhere to talk or be alone.

Steve managed slightly disappointed "Good night Sharon" to her retreating back as she disappeared up the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

"Look man, the two of you are just killing us all here," said Sam, feinting a punch at Steve's head and following it up with a roundhouse kick.

Steve easily dodged, bounced off the ropes of the sparring ring in the basement where he and Sam had taken up a quick sparring match. They had peppered the not-so-serious training with Sam digging for information on what was going on between Steve and Sharon. Apparently their attempts to be subtle and only periodically address the feelings between them had not been so subtle and Sam was letting him know it.

"You need to have a serious conversation with her," said Sam, coming to a stop and grabbing the towel off of the side of the ring.

"I did have conversations with her," said Steve. "And I'd say they were productive. But I'm trying to give her some space. It's only been two months since Peggy died and everything hit the fan. We're all dealing with massive emotional upheaval. I don't want to go pushing her into something that she might not be ready for or might not even want with me."

"You're not serious, are you?" asked Sam, giving him two raise eyebrows and an incredulous look. "If you think for a second that if you didn't ask nicely and find a locked door somewhere that Sharon wouldn't haul you behind it and jump your bones and rip your clothes off in a space of 30 seconds, then you really don't have much experience with women. I've seen how she looks at you, and how you look at her. That girl wants you bad, man, and I know you want her and personally, I think you'd be good together. I can't think of many other people on the face of the earth who could handle either one of you long term. I think you can handle each other."

"Gee thanks," said Steve, grabbing a water bottle and downing half of it in one gulp.

"Nothing personal, Steve, but you gotta admit, it's not like either one of you lead a normal life. Clint finding Laura and having a family and his farm with her not being an agent herself is a rare thing, an exception not the rule. Sharon told me that even the guy that Peggy married, her uncle, was himself in the SSR which is how they met. No way a civilian could have put up with Peggy. I imagine the same is true of her niece."

Steve laughed at that one, nodding in agreement. Although it still sometimes hurt to think of Peggy with someone else, he had to admit, that from what he had heard Sharon tell of her uncle, that Daniel Sousa had indeed been a good match for Peggy, and had understood her in a way that many other men would not have. Especially given the sexism of the time. Not for the first time, Steve found himself oddly wishing we could have met the man, shook his hand and told him thank you for taking care of Peggy. Not that Peggy needed taken care of, but it was the principle of the thing. And he had to admit that Sam had a point. The few times he had tried to go on set up dates with women who had not been in the intelligence community had quickly made him understand that they would not be able to handle what he did for a living. But Sharon could.

He had not had the courage to ask her about any of her own past relationships, since it never came up in conversation and he didn't really feel like asking or appear like he was digging. Nat had told him that she only knew of two that Sharon had ever mentioned, both civilians, and both had ended out of sheer boredom. One was because he had made the mistake of suggesting that she quit her dangerous job for something tamer that he could handle. Sharon had not let the door hit her in the ass on the way out after that one.

Ever since everyone had taken the day to do what they want to do outside of the house, there had been more excursions out into the city. Occasionally, someone would go for a jog down to the park and back, someone would run to the grocery store instead of having groceries delivered, and there were always various sports games being played at the recreational facilities around the city that someone decided to take time to go and join. Steve had taken up his artwork again, and had occasionally gotten on the motorcycle and driven out of the city to where a tulip farm was getting set up, although there would not be any flowers until the spring. However, he would draw the stark landscapes, practicing techniques he hadn't done it in quite a while, and sometimes even worked on that web comic that Scott had suggested, testing out various characters until he had settled on, ironically, a group of friends living in a highly advanced smart house who commented on the state of the world affairs. He had a great deal of fun drawing the various characters in everyday situations, as well as fantastical situations, such as one character inventing a teleporter that transported him to India. The more he worked on it, the more fun he began to have, and began to think that perhaps he could actually do a web comic, if someone would show him how to create a webpage, which Sharon promise to show him. He was looking forward to that, it would mean more time to spend together.

Which, speaking of, they had been doing off and on, although there had been no further kisses. They were both tentative around each other, testing the waters to see what the other would or would not accept, while both still trying to come to terms with the idea that it was OK for them to be interested in each other romantically. They did spend time together talking, but they kept the topics neutral, such as discussions about TV shows they had watched the night before, some of the things they had done in their pasts, and learning about each other's likes and dislikes. But at night, Steve still had a hard time sleeping, knowing that she was awake on the other side of the wall as well. He would listen to her rolling over in her bed until she finally fell asleep, and he had a sneaking suspicion she was doing the same, for when he rolled over and his bed creaked, he could hear her holding her breath and holding still, as if listening for him again. And the sideways longing looks had not stopped either. Although Steve had not made any further romantic moves towards her, none of that stopped his thoughts from going in any direction they felt when she was in the room. And now that he thought about it, when those mental images were becoming particularly intense, that was usually when Wanda decided to get up and leave the room if she was in it. Steve felt himself redden at the thought that she was aware of what he and Sharon were thinking towards each other.

He supposed for Wanda's sake he was going to have to be more proactive in coming to some sort of terms with Sharon that they could both live with. The problem with him was, there were no such terms he could live with that didn't include her in his arms and his life.

Speaking of Wanda, his eyes fell on the younger woman following Natasha to a sparring mat not too far away. There was heavy workout music playing over the speaker system, so he didn't suspect that they had overheard him and Sam, though honestly both women were either psychic or perceptive enough to have figured it out on their own otherwise. Both were wearing workout outfits, and it appeared that Natasha was going to show Wanda some hand to hand combat and grappling techniques. Natasha appeared to be demonstrating to Wanda what to do if someone grabbed you and took you to the ground. She was demonstrating how to break the hold and roll out of it, but Wanda did not seem to be catching on. Natasha straightened up and scanned the workout area in the opposite direction from where Steve was standing in the sparring ring. He followed Natasha's gaze and it fell on Sharon on the opposite end of the room running on a treadmill next to Bobbi. There was no way those two women had overheard his conversation with Sam, since both seemed to have their earbuds in, thankfully. Natasha motioned for Wanda to hold still, then ran over to the treadmill area and tapped Sharon on the shoulder. Sharon immediately stopped and pulled her earphones out, and nodded at whatever Natasha said, which seemed to be agreeing to help teach Wanda. Both of them headed back to the sparring mat, and Sharon walked over to grab a grappling dummy from the side wall and dragged it to the middle of the mat.

Steve watched fascinated as Natasha explained something to Wanda and Sharon got down on the mat and grabbed the dummy in what looked like a chokehold. Then Natasha said something else, and Sharon switched positions with the dummy, which ended up with the mannequin on top of her, straddling her hips. With a fluid motion, Sharon easily rolled out of the grip and pulled the dummy into a submission hold, locking her legs around its neck. Steve has seen Natasha pull similar moves on people she was fighting, but always with a quick snap of her legs, so fast you never really saw how she did it. Here was Sharon demonstrating in slow motion how the move was supposed to go and it was…hot. Steve felt himself starting to sweat, and not from his own exertions.

Wanda nodded and began to practice the moves with Natasha. Steve watched Wanda gently go through the motions of pulling Natasha into a submission hold, and then shook her head and let go seemingly confused. Sharon repeated the move on the dummy. Then she switched places with the dummy again and demonstrated how to roll out of the move, which ended with her on top of it, straddling it. Steve's eyes locked on her in the position over the dummy, and felt his mouth go dry. His mind chose that very moment a picture of himself in the dummy's position and Sharon on top of him. He completely missed Wanda executing the move perfectly on Nat and the encouraging cheers of the two women showing her how to do it. He was too busy trying to control the uncomfortable tightening of his groin at the sight of Sharon still sitting astride the dummy, her hair in a messy ponytail, her workout pants and tank top clinging to her sweaty body, her chest heaving slightly from exertion.

Suddenly he was jerked from behind and slammed like a ragdoll to the ground. He looked up in shock to see Sam grinning over him, having completely gotten the drop on him and executed a perfect jujitsu move that had landed Steve square on his back with a loud thud. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned in shock to see the sight of Captain America landing flat on his back, having been put there easily by Falcon. Steve quickly flipped up to his feet and stood up, glowering at Sam.

"Hey man, don't look at me like that," Sam said with a look that was not at all apologetic. "You had your back to me, and the match wasn't officially over. You are off in a completely different world."

Sam's eyes followed to where the women were practicing grappling. All three of them were standing, looking at the sparring ring with worried expressions on their faces. It was not often that they saw their de facto leader thrown completely on his ass like that. Sharon especially had narrowed her eyes studying the scene. Steve smiled sheepishly and waved at them.

"I'm OK," he called out with as much joking in his tone as he could manage. It had been crazy embarrassing to be set on his butt like that in front of them, especially Sharon. Natasha and Wanda shrugged then went back to Wanda's lesson, and Bobbi across the room put her earphones back in and resumed her run. But Sharon crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment before turning back to the grappling dummy to help Natasha show Wanda another move.

Sam stood beside him. "You never get distracted like that. I saw what was going on over there, can't say I blame you. The ladies in workout clothes would distract Anderson Cooper. Just promise me you won't let her distract you in the field."

"I doubt she's ever in that particular position in the field," Steve said wryly. "But don't worry about it Sam, I won't get distracted. The serum made me stronger, just not a robot."

"Like I said," said Sam, lowering his voice so that only the two of them could hear. "I get it. Just don't need you slipping up. Just do us all a favor and sort it out with her, OK?"

"Yeah yeah," said Steve. He chugged what was left of the water in his bottle, then climbed out of the ring to go find somewhere else in the gym where he could watch without being seen blatantly staring. Then he changed his mind. Sharon was demonstrating how to throw someone off who had gotten on top of you, and that involved her rolling around with a grappling dummy firmly nestled between her legs. That did it. He beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to go take an early, very cold shower.

***

Sharon was about 95% sure that Steve was avoiding her. After the workout that afternoon, he had rushed upstairs to shower and hide out in his room for the rest of the afternoon, telling Clint that he was working on some sketches and needed quiet. He had come down for dinner, but had bolted his food, did the dishes without saying much to everyone, and then run back up to his room. He declined her tentative offer through his closed door to come down and watch television with them, saying that he was still working on some sketches but thanks anyway. She had asked Sam if he had maybe hit his head a little too hard on the ring floor when Sam had tossed him on his back. Sam had only smiled and assured her that Steve had bruised nothing more than his finally toned ass and his pride, and would probably just need some alone time, which was perfectly normal.

She had gone downstairs to watch TV with the others, but found herself not paying an ounce of attention to what was on the screen. Her mind kept drifting back to that afternoon, especially the sight of him sparring with Sam, which she had been watching from her spot on the treadmills across the room. He was fluid and graceful and easily rolled out of any holes or traps that an opponent set for him. She had accepted Natasha's request to come help her with Wanda, not just because she likes grappling, but because it was situated closer to where Steve was working out. She had forced herself to focus on showing Wanda the correct grappling move, but had been casting surreptitious glances to the sparring ring where Steve was standing with Sam, sweating from exertion and pumped up. She had not been unaware of him staring while she grappled with the dummy, and had felt her heart rate speed up knowing he was staring at her. She had not meant to put on a show for him rolling around on the mat with the grappling dummy or straddling it, but the sight of him staring at her looking like he had just been poleaxed while she straddled the dummy had caused her own breathing to speed up and not from the exertion. She had felt the telltale flood of arousal beginning to gather in her core, and she was on the verge of getting up and walking over to Steve to suggest he come over and play the role of the grappling dummy himself when Sam had slammed him onto his back.

That had shocked everyone. Steve never lost focus like that. To see him laid out because he had been distracted by her was equal parts frightening and flattering. When he had bounced back up and his eyes met hers, she knew that he knew that she had seen him distracted because of her. Locking her eyes with his, she had realized at that moment that it had been a long time since she had been that turned on. Then he had beat a hasty retreat, probably for the best given that Wanda was less than 5 feet from her and would be picking up on their thoughts pretty quickly. Speaking of which, the images now floating through Sharon's mind that had involved other workout sessions in which Steve had decided he did not need a shirt were starting to parade through her inner vision, and she herself decided to head up to her room to spare at Wanda any random thoughts that might float her way.

Sharon dashed up the stairs heading for her own shower, but already knowing that it was going to be another restless night with no sleep.

Three hours later, and long after everyone else had gone to sleep, Sharon kicked off her covers and groaned, giving up on sleep for the rest of the night. She was too tense and too wound up. She felt like she was on a merry-go-round that was spinning out of control and she couldn't get off. She sat up in her bed and dropped her face into her hands. They couldn't keep going like this. They were all still processing their emotions over what had happened at the airport and the splitting of the Avengers, and she was still processing the loss of her aunt and the inability to see her family. She knew Steve was going through a similar situation, and this attraction they felt for each other wasn't helping. She suspected that he didn't have the experience to act on it, though it hadn't stopped him from kissing her twice. It was probably going to be up to her, but she would have to decide for herself what she wanted. It was going to mean putting her own neck out and hoping he didn't back off. It made her appreciate the conversation in the hallway three years ago when he had asked her out for coffee and she had been forced to gently turn him down. What had it cost him to stick his own neck out like that only to have her say no? After that, he was probably going to be hesitant about trying again, even though the circumstances were different. But she knew she had to find out. Her resolve strengthened, she got up and walked to the wall that separated their rooms to listen to see if he was still awake. From the sound of his own tossing and turning and breathing patterns, and the slight murmur of the TV in his room, she realized he was. Steeling herself, she stepped out of her room and walked over to his door. She knocked softly.

First there was silence, then Steve's voice said "Come in, Sharon."

She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her. "How did you know it was me?"

"Lucky guess," he said. "Honestly, I know the sound of your footsteps."

He was lying on top of the comforter off his bad, although the bed was turned down. Only a single dim lamp was on, but he was holding the remote control for his TV, which was on with the volume set low. He appeared to be watching some mockumentary about aliens building the pyramids at Giza. She glanced at it, then back at him raising her eyebrows, but said nothing.

"What are you doing up? It's one in the morning," he asked.

"Same as you," she said. "Trying to get some sleep and failing miserably."

"What's keeping you awake?" he asked.

"What isn't?" she said. "Everything that happened, an uncertain future, the bed is too soft, wondering what's going on with you and me. It's enough to keep anyone awake."

"I'm keeping you awake?" said Steve.

"Am I keeping you awake?" she asked.

Both of them looked at each other, knowing the question could be framed in such a way as to suggest that the other person making noise could be keeping the other up, but knowing that the other meant something different. It was a chance for both of them to it knowledge their feelings, with the option to walk away from a conversation. Steve realized that it was probably time to face facts.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "And I don't mean that you're snoring."

"You don't snore either," she admitted. "You know we're probably driving Wanda crazy. She's been good enough not to say anything about it. In her place, I'd have shot both of us by now."

He sat up off of his pillows and leaned forward, studying her.

"What is it you want, Sharon?" he asked.

"I want to stop pretending," she said. "I want to know you feel for me what I feel for you. And if you don't, I want to know that we can still be friends. And that my gazing at you like a love sick idiot won't change that."

He smiled. "And here I was thinking I was doing the idiotic lovesick gazing this afternoon."

She smiled.

He wanted to stand up and go to her and throw his arms around her and kiss her. But she was looking so nervous and uncertain, he wasn't sure that she wouldn't bolt for her room if he did.

"Sharon, I do feel the same way, I know I probably shouldn't, but I do. I think about you all the time. I lie here in bed and think about what it would be like to be lying next to you instead. Maybe I've said too much, maybe I keep saying the wrong things. I'm not really good at this sort of thing." He stifled a sigh and tried not to hang his head.

"I'm not exactly an expert myself," she admitted. "But I don't think ignoring this thing between us is working either."

"Agreed," he said. "I'm willing to try for something more than friends if you are. But not if it means losing you as a friend. I could use the ones I have right now."

"So we are what, an 'item' now?" she asked, the corner of her mouth twirking up into a half smile.

He laughed. "Is that what you kids call it these days?"

"Yeah, sometimes I forget you're 100 years old," she said. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be dating a guy 70 years older than me."

His smile widened. "I hear I'm actually in pretty good shape for my age."

"You are," she said, her eyes taking on a more intense look. Steve found it suddenly hard to swallow and his heart started hammering in his chest. He started to get up to go to her, but right at that moment, the show on the TV returned to explaining how aliens levitated the blocks of the Great Pyramid at Giza into place, and, the moment broken, they both turned to look.

"Interesting shows you watch," she said, turning to watch what was on the screen.

"It's mindless entertainment," he shrugged. "Sometimes puts me to sleep. Want to watch with me?"

She turned back to look at him, still sprawled on his bed, but with ample enough room beside him on the other side for her crawl up next to him. She nodded, and then walked around to the empty side of the bed, and crawled up onto it next to him, leaning back against pillows. She settled back comfortably next to him, and hated to admit it, but the show was mildly entertaining and served to distract her from the warmth of his body less than an inch away. After some time, they had managed to break the tension between them by laughing at various points being made by the mockumentary.

A few minutes passed by, and Sharon felt herself sinking deeper into the pillows, which had acquired his special scent and seemed to surround her. She felt her eyes grow heavy and start to close and she paid less attention to the show and more attention to how good his warm body field next to hers. After some effort, she stopped fighting sleep, and her eyes finally slipped closed.

"I hope nobody actually believe this stuff," Steve said before realizing that she hadn't answered. He turned to look down at her curled up next to him and smiled when he saw that she was asleep. Her face was relaxed, and the tension seemed to have flowed out of her body. She looked peaceful. She looked cute. He felt a warm fuzzy feeling around his heart. He thought about picking her up and carrying her back to her bed, but decided against it. He wanted her here.

He carefully eased the comforter over her, and turned off the television. He slid under the covers himself just as she turned over and sighed, and with some hesitation, he carefully wrapped himself around her, his arm over her hips. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her honeysuckle scent. This felt really nice. And fact, he couldn't remember the last time he felt something this nice. Had he ever actually cuddled with anyone? He didn't think so. In no time at all, his own eyes slid closed and he drifted off to sleep next to Sharon.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **I originally felt that this story was finished, but then the flood of emails begging me to continue made me realize that it really wasn't. Never one to leave a story unfinished, here is an additional, though truly final chapter to this story, right as "Avengers: Endgame" is set to release. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 6**

Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Those were the thoughts filtering through Sharon's mind as she slowly came awake. Her ears registered the steady beat of rain against the window panes as the early gray morning light filtered in through the curtains. The old house was drafty on a good day, and there was a damp chill in the air that was only periodically driven back by the central heating unit kicking on and off, but she was quite warm and languid beneath the heavy quilt and sheets. Steve's warm, solid muscular body was spooned around hers and he was softly snoring. She felt herself smile. She knew he didn't often need more than just a few hours of sleep each night, so to see him asleep now must mean he was relaxed and content. Maybe for the first time in months. Years even. She snuggled back against him, feeling his arm come around her waist, his hand splayed out against her belly where her sleep shirt had ridden up slightly. She felt her temperature rise slightly at the sensation.

For over two decades, her entire life had been about getting up early and getting the job done. It was a very rare day indeed that she realized she really had nothing else to do but relax. Vacations were few and far between, and when she took them, a part of her mind was always back at the office and on the job, whether it happened at SHIELD Academy, as an agent of SHIELD, and later with the CIA. No matter what she was doing, the next assignment was always there, something needing to be done, something needing to be handled. But here, lying in this bed on a dreary cold rainy morning, with Steve curled around her, also in no hurry, for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to relax and not worry about having to be somewhere. For his part, Steve was slowly coming awake himself at the sensation of her stirring, also relaxing at the sound of the rain outside and the feeling of her warmth against him, her scent on the pillow on which his head now rested. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this content. His mind had, for so long, been focused on the next mission, the next problem to solve, the next issue that need to be dealt with. It was, he supposed, a way of distracting himself from his own problems, the emotional enormity of everything that had happened to him, for which he was only marginally ready to face. But at this moment, knowing that although the Avengers were separated by ideological differences, some were injured and some were emotionally traumatized, presently at least, everyone was safe and accounted for, and there was no immediate problem facing them, the world, or humanity that needed him to get out of bed and leave the comfort of Sharon's warmth behind.

He allowed himself to snuggle against her and pulled her closer, but then became aware of an urgent problem causing the front of his sweatpants to tent out in front of him. Her feminine scent and form pressed against him had kicked his arousal into high gear and despite his attempts to think of General Ross dancing burlesque to deflate it, it was no use. He felt himself rise and harden, and he shifted his hips away cautiously in attempt to keep her from feeling it. He knew she'd probably understand that he had no control over it, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for her to know just how much he wanted her.

Sharon was still half asleep, but she was not unaware of his condition. He had been semi erect in his sleep pressed up against her back, but now that she could sense that he was coming awake and had gone to full attention, she felt a certain amount of satisfaction knowing that she affected him in this way. He was normally so calm and cool and collected. He could compartmentalize any situation like nobody she had ever met. It was one of the things that made him so effective leader on the battlefield. But now, feeling him shift slightly away trying to pretend he wasn't as hard as a rock because of her, gave her a sense of validation she had not even been aware that she wanted. There was no doubt she definitely wanted him, if the growing dampness between her legs was any indication. But the knowledge that he wanted her just as much was nearly a relief, relief that she hadn't been imagining this thing between them, whatever it could be called.

Steve, however, was feeling anything but relief. The longer he lay next to her, the more urgent his problem was becoming. When his usual methods of attempting to quell the swelling in his groin were not working, he started to consider what options he had that did not involve making an idiot of himself with her. He knew what he wanted to do to alleviate his problem, but his appalling lack of experience meant that he had no idea how to pursue that particular angle. Was he supposed ask? That could be awkward if she said no, or worse jumped out of bed in outrage, although he strongly suspected she would not react in either of those ways. In fact he was almost 100% sure that she would probably say yes. But then what? He knew the basics of what he was supposed to do to proceed, but was he supposed to take the initiative or her? Were they even at a point in their budding relationship where this was expected? He soon got his answer when she shifted backwards and pressed herself up against him, in a way that there was no way she had missed his arousal. Before he could react, she had snuggled back up against him and now he was pressed against her bottom. Oh yeah, there was no way she was missing this, and no way she had done so by accident. He dropped his face into her hair and whimpered slightly, partially from the sensation, and partially from mild embarrassment.

She shifted again and her breathing caught in her throat. Yep, she was awake.

"Steve?" she whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered back somewhat sheepishly. "I can't help it. Kind of has a mind of its own. Especially in the morning."

He heard her half snort, half chuckled, but not in a mocking way. He felt himself relax a little bit. She didn't seem offended. If anything, she was good-naturedly amused.

"Glad to know you find my predicament humorous," he said, half joking.

"Not funny, no," she said softly. "Flattering, yes."

"Flattering? You act like you're surprised I'd have this kind of reaction to you," he said.

"Truth be told, I kind of am," she admitted. "I mean, not that surprised. You're a guy after all. A straight one I'm assuming. In bed with a woman. I'd be more surprised if you didn't have a reaction."

Steve snorted. "Fair point. But why would you be...I mean, why would you think I wouldn't...with you, I mean? Is it because I'm Captain America and Captain America is above such things? Like a saint or something?"

He winced a little at the sound of bitterness in his own voice. It wasn't becoming and smacked a little of self-pity. He probably wouldn't win any brownie points with her on that. But she didn't call him out on it. Instead, she was quiet for a minute, then sighed.

"No Steve. You're not a saint. Better than most of us, maybe, but still human. Still a man like most others, though a more decent human being than most I've met. Maybe Captain America, the icon, belongs on a pedestal. But Steve Rogers. Well, he's a conflicted guy lying in bed with me."

"Then why would you be surprised that I'd...well, react to you?"

"Because I know I'm not what you would have chosen if you had the choice. Not *who* you would have chosen," she said solemnly, still not looking at him. "I'm here now, when you need someone. When you're lonely and out of sorts over everything that's happened. But if someone would invent a time machine to let you go back to 1944, be with the ones you love and miss, you'd take it without a backwards glance. You might think of me once or twice, but probably not as much as I'd think about you."

Her answer stunned him. It was about the last thing he expected her to say. In fact, he was so floored, it was a full minute before he found his voice enough to respond. And even then, he wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he answered.

"What makes you say that?" he asked softly.

She just shifted and shrugged but seemed in no hurry to answer.

"If you could go back to some better time in your past, would you?" he asked.

"Probably not," she admitted. "There aren't many points in my life I'd consider so much better as to risk changing my personal history."

"But you think that I would? Sharon, it's true that I miss everyone from my old life, but they don't mean more to me than everybody in this house and all of the Avengers. If I were able to go back in time, I would miss all of you too. Whatever I did from 1945 out would probably result in a lot of major things not happening. I couldn't do that. I'd even miss this life in the modern world. I would definitely miss my cell phone. And my e-book reader. But maybe not network news."

Sharon's shoulders huffed a laugh but she still said nothing.

"Even if I had the ability to travel back in time to pick up where I left off, I wouldn't. Not knowing what I know now about how everyone's lives turned out. How many of the commandos would not have met the women they married or father to the kids that they did? Peggy's kids and grandkids wouldn't be here, maybe not even you. Maybe not Tony. I don't have the right to make that many decisions about so many lives just for my personal happiness with no guarantee that I wouldn't feel enormously guilty about everything I would leave behind here. I grew up in the Depression. I saw a lot of people struggle, watched as their lives turned out very differently than what they would have chosen, even saw some people die. I wouldn't go back and change it. Too many important and good things happened as a result of that hardship and that loss. American citizens now have Social Security and Medicare. There are insurances and restrictions on banks people learn the importance of recycling and reusing. And people learn to appreciate what they had. I've seen what happens when someone in a position of power has great ideas about going back to the good all days. That's just not possible. Mostly because the old days weren't as good as people remember, they have their own problems. But anytime you try to move backwards instead of appreciating what you have and moving forward, that only ends up resulting in disaster and a lot of hardships for other people who didn't choose such things for themselves. Looking back and trying to re-create the past in some way never ends well. And besides it's a moot point. Unless Tony has some kind of invention I haven't heard about yet, there is no traveling back in time. There is only here and now. This is what I live with, all of you are the ones in my life now. And you're no less important than the people I knew in my past."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she whispered.

"Why would you think I don't value you and all the Avengers as much as I've valued Peggy and the commandos?" he asked.

"You've been so unhappy since you woke up," she said. "Like nothing or nobody could ever take away the sadness you carry at what you've lost."

"Well," he said, "I wasn't exactly a beacon of happiness before I joined the army back then either. My father's death left me and mom in dire straits, I grew up during the Depression and then I lost my mother to tuberculosis. If you had known me back then, I bet that you wouldn't see a whole lot of difference from the man you know now. Maybe I'm just moody by nature."

At that she laughed a true laugh. "Maybe you are. Though despite all of it I would still call you an optimist. And I'm definitely cynical. That makes for an interesting combination."

"Do you think you're not important to me?" he asked.

"I think I probably am," she admitted. "I do think we all matter to you. But for most of my life I have not been anyone's priority. Or at least, not their first choice. Maybe I'm just feeling some self-pity over my own situation."

"Not even your parents?" he asked.

At that, she turned to face him, but she didn't meet his eyes.

"My parents loved me. I feel like I should probably establish that right away. But I lost my dad when he enlisted during the Gulf War in the 1990s, and he was killed the first few weeks he was there by an IED. For most of my childhood, I couldn't help but feel angry that he had even joined up in the first place. The economy was rough, but I'm sure he probably could have found a job somewhere as a civilian. Something that wouldn't have taken him away from us so soon. Knowing what I know about psychology, I understand that this is a very common thing for the children of fallen soldiers to feel. I recognize that. But it doesn't make anything go away. Then my mom was lost after my father died. It was too difficult for her to live in the little house we lived in on the Carter property where she had lived with my dad, knowing he was never coming back. She threw herself into volunteer and missionary work, and eventually allowed it to take her out of the country to places like Central America and Africa. From the time I was 13, she was always going places where help was needed. She left me with Peggy and Dan, but I know she was just running away from her own pain. Not that she wasn't home a lot either, she was home maybe about five months out of the year, but the rest of the time I was living with Peggy and her husband. They did a fair share of raising me. I couldn't help but feel that I was second to my mom's need to get away and do for others. Peggy never made me feel like I was second important to her, but I also knew how busy she was. At the time she was the director of SHIELD. I was smart enough to know that the security of the country and the free world came before my need to mope to somebody. Uncle Dan was pretty easy to talk to, but he died when I was 15 from a stroke. I don't know, it just seems like everybody in my life has left me behind in some way. I was eager to join SHIELD and find some place to belong. And I had to do it without living in Peggy's shadow. And for the most part it worked. I made friends and found a purpose in my own life. Then SHIELD was gone. Everyone I knew scattered to the winds. Natasha was with the Avengers, Clint retired, Phil Colson reformed SHIELD but he never called me. Maria Hill joined up with Stark, and also never called me. Bobbi went to work with Phil. It's like everybody forgot that I existed. Of course I went to the CIA because Hill suggested it. And now I'm gone from that too. Mind you I understand that a lot of that was my own decision and I don't regret it. But one does get tired of being left behind. I've just kind of accepted that I'm not as important to the people who are important to me. You just learn to live with it."

Steve felt his heart clinch as she poured out her confession. It was probably the most personal she had ever gotten with him. And he understood what it took for her to even say the words. It also made him acutely aware of what it would mean to go into a relationship with her. He certainly did not want to be another name on the list of people who had let her down in some way.

"What can I do?" he asked, draping his arm over her and rubbing her back.

"Don't leave me behind," she said simply.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," he said with a smile.

But her own returning smile was more sad than anything else. "If you do, you won't do it on purpose."

Steve felt an odd sense of foreboding that he forced himself to shake away and focus on Sharon. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close gently kissing her forehead. She returned the embrace, snuggling against him. His erection, which had subsided somewhat during the heavy talk, surged right back to full attention at the sensation of her slender warm body against his. He knew she could feel it, if possible, it was even bigger than before. But this time he made no effort to move away. He wanted to roll her under him, but he held himself in check. He decided he would wait for her to decide what should happen next. She knew how he felt, she could feel his arousal. If she wanted him, she would let him know. He didn't have long to wait.

She tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his. He eagerly returned the kiss and she settled against him, angling to give him better access. He pulled her closer and leaned into the kiss, feeling his breathing speeding up. His hands roamed her back, her arms and the dip of her waist, as hers made their way across the planes of his back, venturing down to his rump. He wasn't able to stifle his groan when she squeezed and pulled him against her hips. He couldn't quite remember the last time he had been this hard, if ever. The head of his penis was working its way up through the elastic waist band of his shorts, straining towards his stomach. When he pressed up against her, he felt her legs part slightly in response.

Sharon was not in much better shape herself. She still had a lot of doubts about where she stood in his life, but most of that was going out the window as her hormones took over. Her core was flooded and throbbing with need for him. She was fairly certain that if she didn't get him inside her soon, she was probably going to start causing property destruction. Part of her still wanted to chastise herself for allowing herself to fall at the complete mercy of a man, something she swore she would never do for most of her life. Not even Steve Rogers. The idea that she would throw all caution to the wind for the sake of being able to have this one man made her slightly disappointed in herself, she didn't like being vulnerable. But that's what he did to her, made her vulnerable to him. She knew that she did the same thing to him. And right now she wanted him like nothing she had ever want to before. She'd deal with the consequences later.

She slipped her hand under his shirt and massaged the well-defined muscles of his back and arms, slipping around to his front to explore his abs and chest. At his encouraging whimper, she seized the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. He lifted himself up slightly to help her. Then, before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled her over her head too. At the sight of her bare before him, his eyes darkened with desire. She took his hand and led it up to her chest, showing him how to gently massage and squeeze. He felt his mouth go try and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. He had not been sure what to expect, but the sensation of her soft skin beneath his fingertips was blowing his mind. She sighed at his gentle touch and exploration, but decided to speed things up a bit. She kissed him again and let her hands wander further south to push his shorts down and free his straining organ. He let her, but when he felt her reach for him, he took her hand to still her. She stopped.

"Too fast?" she asked.

"No," he said, his voice strained. "I just want to make sure this is what you really want."

"Yes, it's what I really want. What about you? Are you sure about this? I don't want to be the latest entry on your list of regrets."

"I promise, I'm not going to regret this," he said with a smile.

"Even though I'm not your first choice?" she asked. "Because you can't have...who you really want?"

He rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him and boldly slipping himself between her legs to position at her entrance. She sucked in her breath in surprise and then whimpered her need.

"Sharon," he said in a voice that was almost his Cap voice, firm and commanding, to leave no doubt he was about to say something he truly meant. "I have who I really want. I'm in bed with who I really want. I'm about to make love to who I really want, someone I've wanted for years, before I even knew your real name. I want you. You. Not my past. I want my future. I'm here with you because I want to be. I hope you believe that."

"I do believe it," she said. "Or more to the point, I believe you're telling me the truth."

"Good," he said. "Because I wasn't going to do this without knowing you know that."

He surged forward and pushed himself inside her in one long deep thrust. She stifled a sudden yelp of both surprise and pleasure at his sudden invasion. She had known he was somewhat inexperienced, and expected him to be shy and tentative, and to a certain extent he was initially, but she was pleasantly surprised at his forwardness. He drew back and plunged in again, groaning at the sensation of his length dragging against her swollen walls. Deep surges of pleasure warmed her core and she lifted her knees and hips to nudge him deeper. He pulled back and pushed in again, relishing the sensation.

He had not been entirely sure what to expect. Have a never actually done this before, he didn't have a frame of reference to compare it to. He knew the basics of what was supposed to happen, from a biological standpoint anyway, and he had not been ignorant of the various entertainment materials that had circulated amongst his friends and both times in which he had lived, but he had no first-hand experience and had initially wondered if he was doing it right, but her desperate groans and yelps of ecstasy told him he was at least on the right track. He had been surprised at first at how hot she was, and then how wet. It was a glorious feeling. Then he thrust a few more times and she arched her back and cried out, no longer able to keep quiet, or no longer caring who could hear them. Her internal muscles began squeezing him rapidly and tightly, and he realized she was coming. He wanted to keep going, perhaps try and draw a second one out of her, as he didn't want this to be over with too quickly, but apparently they had both been in desperate need of each other because the sensation of her crashing over the edge was really all it took for him to follow her right over the cliff.

He groaned deeply and gave up trying to hold back. Sharon felt his hot juices pulsing out of his engorged member against her inner walls and she surrendered to her accompanying orgasm, answering his flood with her own. He pushed all the way into her and collapsed on top of her, spent. "Wow," was all he could manage, mumbling against her hair.

She had only barely avoided losing consciousness, but was able to laugh and say "Wow indeed."

He pulled himself up onto one elbow and looked down at her. "No complaints then?"

She smirked at him. "Fishing for compliments, Captain? That could be construed as behavior unbecoming a soldier."

"So I shouldn't do it again?" he asked with his own smirk

"Oh no, I'd say you can do that as often as you want," she replied.

"Good. Because that was so amazing, not to mention fast, I can guarantee I'm going to want to repeat experience."

To her surprise, she felt him start to swell inside her. Not that he had gone completely soft.

"What again? Now? Not that I mind, but I suspect my recovery time might be a little longer than yours." She smiled, hoping he didn't take that the wrong way.

He only smiled, lay back down and pulled her closer to tuck her under his chin, but he stayed inside her. She felt her heart warm in her chest and fought to drown out the nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept insisting that she should avoid falling in love with him, that she was only a means of comfort in has current uncertain situation, and that while he might care for her, maybe even love her, it was never going to be as much as he had loved Peggy. She forced the voice down and out of her mind. She knew that she was different, different from her aunt, and he would love her differently. But that didn't necessarily mean that it wouldn't be as much. Already, she knew the dynamic between the two of them was different from the one he had had with her aunt. None of that seem to bother him, and she was going to try hard not to let it bother her. She snuggled against him and filled herself drifting off, still on a high from a hormonal euphoria. At the very least, she could certainly get used to this. As long as she didn't expect too much more. It might be something he wasn't ready to give.

Steve felt her drift off and dozed a bit himself before coming back awake and gently slipping out of her. In an instant, he missed her warmth and closeness, but knew that they couldn't stay like that and get any real rest. He thought a bit about her emotional reluctance and her reasons for it. He could certainly understand. In fact, given their situation, he could understand a lot about her hesitation. He could also begin to appreciate what Peggy's husband Daniel must've felt for most of their marriage. What had it taken for the man to convince himself that his wife loved him as much as she had a man supposedly dead since 1945? Had he experienced uncertainty about his relationship to Peggy that Sharon felt towards him? How had Peggy addressed that? Whatever that had taken, Steve was glad that the other man and stuck it out long enough to give Peggy a home and family and support through all those years. He just wished he knew how to import that same aspect to Sharon. He knew he wanted something long-term, maybe even permanent with her. He just had no idea how to break through the walls she had formed around her heart and convince her that she was every bit as important to him as anyone else in his life ever been. She had done such a good job hiding her own emotional turmoil at their situation that he had almost forgotten that surely she must be feeling some. He sighed and tucked her under his chin again, rubbing her back and trying not to feel himself stir again. There would be time enough for that.

***

It was actually amazing to Steve how easily they fell into a pattern in the coming weeks. They didn't make love every day, but it was certainly close to that. At first they were reserved in public about the change in their relationship, but the others in the house seemed to just accept the new aspect of his relationship with Sharon without saying much. After their first time together, they had rested a bit and then gone downstairs, extremely late for breakfast or extremely early for lunch, expecting smirks and offhand comments. However, everybody was going about their day like nothing had changed, and nobody said anything. In fact the only indication that everyone gave that they knew about him and Sharon was the occasional triumphant smile from Natasha when she caught them staring at each other. Although they didn't come right out an announce it, and although they tried to be quiet, the walls of the house were thin enough to where surely everyone knew what they were getting up to at night. At least they tried to keep it down for the sake of the others. Bobbi and Hunter didn't even try to be quiet. And they were downstairs.

Evolving into a committed couple was not nearly as fast as Steve had thought it would be. In his day, if two people liked each other, they formally asked each other out, the guy asked the girl's father for permission to date his daughter, there was maybe an exchange of a class ring involved, and then they went and did things together. Sometimes they even announced it to their friends that they were going together, it was all very formalized in ritualized. Apparently that was not the case in the 21st-century. The line between friends and couple was much more blurred, but after several weeks, he noticed a few telltale signs. It was in the way that Sharon no longer kept her distance on the couch when they were all watching television, but instead curled up against aside, not caring who saw her do it. It was in the way he would reach for her hand next to him at the table, or hold her hand when they were walking down the sidewalk and she didn't pull away. It was in the quick kisses they gave each other no longer behind closed doors, not really caring who saw the public displays of affection.

Clint invited everybody to his farm for Thanksgiving, and there was much discussion about how safe it would be to go. No doubt, Tony and his crew along with General Ross would likely be looking out for any sign of them on the US mainland, and although Ross did not know about the farm, Tony did. However, if Tony was watching the farm, he must know that Clint was there, and had been for several months, and no move had been made to arrest Barton since he had returned. Both Sharon and Natasha, the experts in psychology and motivation, theorized that Tony really did not want to put anybody behind bars, and was fine feigning ignorance until ordered to do something about it. Knowing that Clint had a family and was minding his own business seem to be reason enough for Tony's side of the Avengers to leave them alone. But would that apply to all of them in one spot so easy to apprehend? The last thing anyone wanted was to bring a flight to the Burton farm where Clint's three children and wife were living. It was Natasha who pointed out that they would not have been invited unless Clint and Laura were OK with it, and the invitation extended to Bobbi and Hunter as well, who politely declined, saying that they were planning on spending the holidays with Hunter's family in the UK. After all, they were not wanted for international crimes, and it went without saying, but that if everybody were arrested at Clint's farm, and Bobbi and Hunter with them, they would be guilty by association.

Ultimately, they accepted the invitation and Sharon had to admit she was quite interested in seeing this farm that Clint had carved out for himself with a normal family life, something she had not thought was possible for agents like them. They only stayed for one night and Thanksgiving Day in order to minimize the likelihood of being discovered, but Sharon found that period of time wandering the farm yards with Natasha and Wanda and Clint's kids to be some of the most fun she had had in a long time. They managed to detour to Detroit on the way home so that Sharon could call her family and assure them that she was fine and to wish everybody a happy Thanksgiving before quickly returning to the safe house in Amsterdam.

Christmas was a slightly different story however. Sam wanted to return to spend time with his own family, with assurances that he would be as careful as possible. Bobbi and Hunter once again return to his family in the UK, and although the Bartons extended the invitation for them to spend the holidays with them again, only Natasha and Wanda accepted. Steve and Sharon made some excuses about not wanting to crowd the Bartons too many holidays in a row, though they were grateful for the invitation. But secretly, Steve suspected that he was the one that the authorities really wanted to apprehend, for the symbol that it would represent of bringing in the rogue Captain America. If he were not part of the bargain, he hoped that it would mean that the Barton farm would once again be left alone for the holidays. And it with mean spending Christmas alone with Sharon.

He worried that she would be further depressed at being away from her family over the holidays, but the Carter family manage to come through with that as well. They decided to celebrate Christmas three days early. While Natasha and Wanda took the car to the Barton farm, Steve used the SUV to drop off Bobbi and Hunter in the UK, Sam in Virginia, and then he and Sharon made their way to the Carter estate, also in Virginia, for a quick family exchange of presents and Christmas dinner a few days early. He was rather nervous about showing up at the Carter home with Sharon given his history with the family and the fact that it was mostly his fault that Sharon was now in hiding. His worries were unfounded, however, when they greeted him enthusiastically, clearly agreeing with Sharon in taking his side on the whole mess that had started this in the first place. He got to speak at length with Peggy's grown children who were experiencing their first Christmas without their mother, and he could see that they were having a difficult time though putting on a brave face for their children and grandchildren. He also got to meet Sharon's mother, home for the holidays from her missionary work, and was amused to see how much Sharon resembled her rather than the Carter side of the family. They only stayed for a few hours, not being willing to risk staying any longer and being detected, but he could tell it had done Sharon a world of good to see her family after so many weeks of being in hiding. Before they headed back to the safe house, Steve dropped a postcard in the mail to Tony wishing him and Pepper and everyone else a Merry Christmas, wondering if any of his hand written letters had been delivered yet. He never put a return address, so even if Tony wanted to respond in kind, he wouldn't know how, but still, Steve wondered.

Despite their circumstances and the house being empty, he and Sharon managed to make things more or less festive. They hung up a few decorations and even got a small tree to decorate. Sharon was able to dig up an album of a Christmas show that Frank Sinatra had once put on during the 1940s that Steve had listened to with his neighbors at the apartment complex where he had lived with his mother one Christmas Eve. He enjoyed telling her stories of that particular party, how all the neighbors, still coming out of the Depression, had very little to bring in the way of food, but somehow or another they had all manage to bring something, including homemade bread, oranges with cloves stuffed into them, eggnog, deviled eggs, and anything else that could be dug up given the times. They had all gathered in Mrs. Whitwick's apartment, one of the biggest ones in the building, and had all gathered around the radio to listen to Frank Sinatra's live show. Sharon listened with interest, and told him some of her own stories about Christmases she remembered as a child, including one where she had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for Santa Claus to bring the BB gun she had asked for. And her frustration at waking up the next morning having missed everything, but finding the BB gun under the Christmas tree later that afternoon, suspecting that Peggy had put it there against her mother's wishes.

Christmas dinner was a giant pot of beef stroganoff from a recipe Natasha had perfected. After having two bowls for Sharon and four for Steve, they settled in on the couch to watch a marathon of Christmas movies in comfortable, companionable silence. They ended the evening in his room tangled in the sheets, gasping each others' names.

The others returned a few days later with news of a situation brewing in South America involving some drug cartels and kidnapped aid workers in Bolivia who had run afoul of one of the Santa Cruz cartel operations. According to a distress signal received by a ham radio operator, the group was being hidden in some Incan ruins in the area by some friendly villagers, but the cartel forces were searching the area and it was only a matter of time before they were found. The official Avenger's team had not been given permission to intervene, since it didn't involve any NATO members and none of the missionaries were from such countries, being mostly Australian.

"What would SHIELD do if it were still official?" asked Steve.

"Go after them covertly," replied Sharon. Then she looked over at Bobbi. "Can Phil go after them? He's still out of the line of sight of Congress and the UN, reforming SHIELD."

"He could, but he also has his hands full dealing with the inhumans at the moment," said Bobbi. "I'm not sure he can spare the manpower, what with me and Hunter being off the team and having lost a few others to death and treachery."

"That really just leaves us, then," said Steve.

Everyone was silent. For several months, they had been mindful of their status as international fugitives, minus Bobbi and Hunter of course, but even they had to keep their heads down, lest Russian authorities realize that they were in fact intelligence officers and that Phil Coulson had lied to save their lives. This might end up painting a target on their backs for any Russian agents who might want to slip some A-234 into the food they picked up from the nearby grocery store.

"I'm in," said Natasha softly.

"Me too," said Sharon, knowing that the CIA probably had her face plastered onto every facial recognition camera in the country. Their disguises were going to have to be top rate.

"Same here," said Wanda, with Sam nodding in agreement.

Steve hesitated a bit about including Sharon. He knew she was fully capable, knew that she would likely right hook him across the jaw if he suggested she stay behind to keep herself safe with Nat and Wanda going, knew she would be very useful with her skill set, but that didn't stop him from wanting to keep her safe all the same. And out of the line of sight for anyone looking for them. But he also knew when to pick his battles, and as missions go, this one should be fairly easy, especially if they were adequately disguised. He turned to Bobbi.

"If you guys want in, you're in. But this time, I think maybe you should hang behind. Being seen fighting with us is an invitation to all sorts of political trouble you don't need. And I think we've got adequate firepower going along." Steve hoped they weren't offended.

Bobbi looked uncertain at first, and then nodded. "You're right. We should sit this one out. But we can help with camouflage."

"I won't turn that down," Sharon said.

So they got to work. Sam and Hunter prepped the equipment and Steve downloaded maps of the area and what intel he could, preparing the strategy. Nat and Sharon worked with Bobbi on disguises.

Sharon, who had never run a mission with the Avengers, got to observe them moving into battle mode, where they became their personas instead of the housemates she had come to know. Natasha she had seen go into battle mode before when they both worked at SHIELD, and to a certain extent she had observed Steve becoming Captain America in the face of a mission, but from a distance. Now she was a part of it, and had to admit that he was truly a genius at strategy and planning, being hyper aware of everyone's abilities and strengths and weaknesses and assigning them roles on the team accordingly. Being the expert in psychology and profiling that she was, she could tell even though he was trying to hide it that he didn't want to put her in harm's way, but also that he knew her well enough to know that she would be pretty angry if he didn't put her in an active role. He assigned her and Nat to intelligence gathering, and her and Wanda to the second wave going in on the ground. She accepted the role without argument, knowing full well that the first wave would likely handle all the danger long before the second wave went in, but deciding not to push her luck and be grateful for not being required to sit back in a command base somewhere.

They gathered their materials and travelled covertly in the Quinjet to a location about 10 miles east of the encampment. Sam sent Redwing in to gather visual and operational scouting data, and she and Natasha poured over it several times. From the looks of things, it was going to be an easy in and out, for the criminals were not very sophisticated, preferring instead to rely on brawn instead of brains during their own operations. Their camps had many wide open unguarded weak points, and the ones on duty seem to be the ones holding the biggest guns, and not necessarily the ones who thought to look for intruders in places that were obvious to Sharon but apparently not so obvious to people with no formal military training. Truth be told, Sam and Redwing could probably get in and handle the situation single-handedly, but Steve was afraid that the commotion would cause any who had not been dealt with to harm the hostages. It would be a quick in, strike and disable, and then out.

At 2 AM, Steve lead the first wave in that consisted of Natasha and Sam, while she and Wanda hung back ready to go in when needed. Sam easily took out the guards in the front, while Natasha and Steve struck from the back. In a matter of five minutes, the perimeter guards had been disabled and the team moved in. Suddenly, there was sounds of fighting over the comm, as it became apparent that all of the bad guys in the compound had been alerted to their presence and were fighting back. Wanda and Sharon moved in, with Wanda levitating them both to the roof of the building where they predicted the hostages were being held. They found a trap door in the roof and easily dropped down, encountering a small contingent of guards watching over a locked door. Sharon disabled them, and Wanda unlocked the door. They found the terrified victims huddling inside, and Sharon made use of her Spanish skills to assure them that everything was going to be OK. By the time Steve found them, having run up the stairs, Sharon and Wanda had organized everybody into groups and were readying them to be extracted. The whole thing was over in less than 10 minutes. The members of the cartel army that had not been killed in the battle were rounded up and immobilized with SHIELD technology shackles. They rendered the prisoners completely immobile using force field technology, and they were piled into the prison cell that had been holding the victims, as Steve radioed the local authorities to inform them of the situation. Thankfully he refused to tell them the names of who had freed the hostages, preferring instead not to create an international incident if necessary.

Gathering up provisions, and writing out a series of directions in Spanish, they sent the convoy of former hostages down the road, having first ensured that it was clear of criminals, to meet the authorities coming over the mountain who would bring them back to their homes. Then, they raced back to their Quinjet and were out of the country heading back to the safe house before the authorities ever made it to the compound to arrest the criminals.

That night, they celebrated with food and revelry, although Steve was somewhat subdued.

"Anything wrong?" Sharon asked him, coming to sit next to him at one of the window alcoves.

"No," he said. "I'm glad we were able to rescue the hostages without losing a single one, but I really don't like this operating under cover thing. I've never had to work as a spy would, from the shadows."

"You get used to it, or at least I did," said Sharon. "I know it must be galling for you, though. I don't blame you. But until further notice, this is how we're going to have to operate."

"I know," he said. "It still stings though."

She only nodded in agreement and moved into his arms to snuggle with him and look out the window at the streets below. 

As time went on, with it looking less and less like there would be opportunities for reconciliation and reunion of the Avengers, the group who were now referred to as the "Shadow Avengers," learned to make the safe house their permanent home. The attention span of the media, and subsequently society, was short, and as time went on and new global incidents occupied news time and the minds of the populace, there was only passing mention of where Captain America and his fugitive team might be. As the official Avengers handled various crisis for the UN, Steve's team learned to drop in quickly and get out in situations which Tony's team was not allowed to venture forth. Eventually, grainy security camera images of them surfaced on the Internet with speculation that they were operating as a rogue vigilante group, and so Steve began to grow out a beard and Natasha changed her hair color to blonde. This helped somewhat, although they were occasionally still recognized after the fact.

This didn't stop them from becoming more willing to venture out from the safe house. Word reached them that Clint had also reached an agreement with the government in order to protect his family, which amounted to house arrest as Scott Lang had been given. More than one conversation after this had led the residents of the safe house to wonder if perhaps turning themselves in for a period of house arrest might be worth it to rejoin society again, although Steve mentioned that he would never turn himself in if it meant signing the accords to be able to go in and help people.

Although she missed openly visiting her family, Sharon echoed the same. Natasha pointed out that she didn't have any family to consider, other than the ones at the safe house and Clint's family, and so she would remain where she was for the time being. They still received the occasional communications from King T'Challa, who reminded them that his country was open to them anytime they wanted, and to occasionally gave them updates on Bucky who had begun treatment at the hands of the king's sister Shuri, and seemed to be progressing nicely. Occasionally, Steve would go to visit Bucky in Wakanda, and sometimes Sharon went with him.

Likewise, Natasha would go to visit Clint's family, although rarely for she did not want to jeopardize his immunity agreement with the government by forcing him to harbor a fugitive. Sam would occasionally go to visit his grandmother, although he preferred to hang out with Hunter when Hunter and Bobbi were at the safe house. On more than one occasion, Wanda would go off for a couple of weeks, never mentioning where she had been, and Sharon suspected, confirmed later by Natasha, but she was going to visit Vision, who had opted not to give them up if it meant spending time with Wanda.

Before they knew it, two years had passed, and while the world had not exactly forgotten about them, it was no longer actively screaming about them in the media. Over time, they became accustomed to their routine, with everyone treating the safe house as a home base, but occasionally doing their own thing out in the world. They stepped in with crisis situations where they were needed, quickly extracted themselves, leaving the world to wonder if it had truly been them, and giving themselves a sense of purpose for they were, after all, superheroes whose life purpose it was to help those who cannot help themselves.

Working with Steve in the field gave Sharon a new appreciation of why so many people followed him eagerly into battle. He had a certain leadership quality that made you want to do your best, made you want to follow him, something she knew was rare in a lot of people who had rank but not the charisma of leadership. Although she knew it still grated on him that they had gone rogue in this way, she knew that it was offset somewhat by the good they continued to do in the world. As for their relationship, it settled into a comfortable familiarity, one she had never had before, one that seemed almost too good to be true.

Then, one day, when Wanda had been gone for over two weeks without communication, Steve group worried.

"She knows better than this," he said, nervously pacing in front of the fireplace. "She knows she's supposed to check in."

"Steve, if she were captured, we would've heard about it on the news," said Sharon.

"Probably," agreed Natasha, "unless for some reason they wanted to hush it up. Like they tried to apprehend her and keep her from using her powers with some untried method and ended up damaging her in some way."

"Is that what you think happened?" asked Sam.

"No actually," said Nat. "I'm thinking she's enjoying herself and having a hard time leaving."

Nat trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence and admit to Steve that Wanda had been sneaking off to see Vision.

"Vision you mean?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of the fireplace and fixing Nat with a pointed stare. "Yes I know where she's been going."

"And you didn't say anything?" asked Nat.

"For what purpose?" asked Steve. "Telling her not to go would only cause her to resent me, and if she's willing to see him, I'm working under the assumption that it's with the understanding that he isn't going to turn us all in, and that she hasn't revealed where we've all been hiding."

"She wouldn't do it willingly," agreed Sharon, "although she could always let something slip. And it's hard to tell with Vision, he might feel duty-bound to tell Tony."

"At any rate," said Steve, "we need to go find her. Does anybody know where she went?"

"Before she turned off her transponder, it indicated that she was in Edinburg, Scotland."

"Then that's where we'll go," said Steve. "Everybody suit up."

He looked over at Sharon. "I know you were planning to go visit your family for your cousin's kid's 16th birthday, but it's up to you if you want to come."

Sharon look pained. "I promised them that I would be there. It means a lot to them. But I hate to think that you would be shorthanded if Wanda is in trouble."

Steve smiled and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. "I don't think she's in too much trouble, nothing we couldn't handle anyway, it's probably just a case of a shacking up session that went on to long."

"If you need me, you can always call me," she said. She held up her wrist with the small communication device on it that they have been using on secure channels to communicate worldwide. It was based on Wakandan technology but resembled a regular smart watch.

"I know," Steve said reluctantly. "I'd rather have you with us, but I don't want to disappoint any of the Carters. It's already because of me that you've been taken away from them as long as you have."

"Stop that," Sharon said. "I'm here because I want to been. And like you said earlier, if we feel that we need to go legit, we could always turn ourselves in and pray for house arrest. Hey, we might even end up arrested in the same house. Two years of never having to go anywhere with only each other for company? That actually sounds pretty good to me."

"Sounds like our lives right now," he laughed. "Only with ankle bracelets."

She laughed and kissed him, and then pushed him away. "I guess you need to go get ready. Let me know when you find Wanda. I'm going to be heading out for Virginia in a couple of hours myself."

"It should be a piece of cake," he said. "I'll see you when we both get home."

With another kiss and reluctant pulling away, they turned and walked in opposite directions preparing for their mutual destinations.

But Sharon couldn't shake the strange cold feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach as she packed to head for her family's estate and her cousin's birthday party. Steve was right, this should be an easy in and out to retrieve Wanda. With enough subtlety, no one would ever know they had even been there. So why did she suddenly feel so afraid?

The End


End file.
